


Still You

by wayward_avenger



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Tony Stark, Depression, Dissociation, Domestic Avengers, Gen, Hallucinations, Human Experimentation, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Kidnapped Peter, Major Character Injury, Origin Story, Oscorp - Freeform, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Origin, Post-Spider Bite Peter Parker, Pre-Spider Bite Peter Parker, Sensory Deprivation, Torture, Whump, adding tags as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-01-30 19:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_avenger/pseuds/wayward_avenger
Summary: Because I refuse to go down in a world without Peter Parker and Tony Stark, I'm going back to the good old days of Peter's origins as Spiderman.When Peter is bitten by a radioactive spider at Oscorp, it is up to the Avengers to figure out how he has changed and if he will be ok...unless Oscorp gets to him first.There is going to be so much whump in this I can't even. I've been sitting on this fic for a while, so I'm posting in the hopes that it will motivate me to keep writing!
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 76
Kudos: 311
Collections: Lost and Found Irondad Fics





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, Pete, how was Oscorp?” Tony asked as Peter walked through the doors of the compound.

“Fine,” Peter shrugged noncommittally. “Kind of boring. Oscorp isn’t as impressive as Stark Industries is,” he said with a smile. Truth was, it wasn’t fine and boring wasn’t the exact word he would use to describe his day, but he wasn’t going to worry Tony about that.

“You ok, kid? You look a little pale,” Tony said, placing a hand on the boy’s forehead. Truth be told, the boy didn’t look well at all. There was a light sheen of sweat on Peter’s face and there was a light tremor running through his body.

“Y-yeah,” Peter stammered, shooing Tony’s hand away from his face. “I just woke up not feeling too great. I think I’m just tired.”

“Alright, kid,” Tony said, looking unconvinced and still worried, “Why don’t you have an early night tonight after dinner.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Peter agreed. Quite honestly, he didn’t now _what_ was wrong with him. Spider bites didn’t cause this many symptoms, did they? He always thought that spider bites were just glorified mosquito bites. But this spider had been…different. He shook the memory out of his head as he headed to his room, falling on his bed, his eyes looking up at the ceiling and his legs dangling over the side. His eyes closed for a moment…

\------------------------

“Mr. Osborn, sir.”

“Not now, Ericson.”

“Mr. Osborn, I’m sorry, but this is urgent,” Ericson replied, walking into the room further.

“Then say it urgently. I really don’t have time for-”

“One of the spiders is dead,” Ericson cut in in a tense voice.

Ten seconds of deafening silence penetrated every molecule of the room until,

“Come again, Ericson? I believe you said that one of our spiders is dead. You and I both know that they cannot die unless…”

“They bite a host. Yes, sir,” Ericson stated, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

Norman Osborn stood up from behind his desk, fingertips against his mouth, looking directly at Ericson. He approached until he was no more than two inches away from the frightened man’s face.

“And do we know who it bit?”

“Facial recognition from the security cameras in the room identifies him as one of the high schoolers from Midtown who visited today. His name is Peter Parker.” The two men had moved to the security lounge, pouring over a computer that showed the security footage from that day.

“Parker…” Osborn mumbled, stepping back from the screen. “That’s Stark’s adopted kid.”

Ericson didn’t seem to be listening. “He seems fine after the bite. You can see him shake it off of his hand and walk away.”

“Oh, he won’t be fine,” Osborn said lowly. “Amazing,” he whispered, watching the clip of Peter loop on the screen, appearing perfectly normal.

“What do we do, sir?” Ericson spoke.

“Find him. Phase 2 is beginning ahead of schedule.”

\---------------------------

“Peter?” he heard in the distance. “Pete, you ok?” the voice said, now knocking softly on the closed door. Peter opened his eyes blearily as Tony peaked his head in the room.

“Hey bud, you ok there?” Tony said with a small smile. Peter was still in the same position he had fallen asleep in, his body lying at a 90-degree angle to the bed, his legs hanging over the side. He sat up and felt his vision swam. If he were not sitting down, he would have fallen over. Regardless, this did not go unnoticed by Tony, who was by his side in an instant.

“Whoa, Peter, are you alright?” Tony asked, concerned.

“Yeah…” Peter responded with his eyes closed, willing the dizziness to stop. “Just sat up too fast…got a little dizzy.” Tony still looked worried.

“You need to eat something. Come on, Cap made dinner. Bruce is coming too,” Tony said, gripping Peter’s arm. Peter looked at the clock, which read 6 o’clock. He had slept for nearly three hours. He got up, thankful that the dizziness was at least not getting any worse. He let Tony hold onto his arm, however. Soon they entered the kitchen and Tony maneuvered Peter into his usual seat at the table. Peter stared listlessly at the table until he decided to lay his head down on his folded arms. Pepper came in at that moment and gently placed a hand on Peter’s curls. He loved the touch. It often reminded him of May when…

He heard voices coming from across the kitchen.

“Tony, is Peter ok?” he heard Steve ask, concerned as Pepper walked over to the conversation.

“I think so. He said he wasn’t feeling well today and seemed pretty dizzy after he passed out in his room for a few hours after school. He’s probably just coming down with something that everyone has.”

“Tony, he really doesn’t look well. If he’s not feeling better by tomorrow, bring him up to medbay and I’ll check him out,” Bruce said.

“Alright, I’ll see how things go tonight,” Tony agreed.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Steve had made spaghetti and meatballs. Peter knew he should eat, but waves of nausea kept threatening to wash over him every time he took a bite. He allowed himself what he considered an acceptable portion and then excused himself from the table, not looking at the startled faces of Steve, Pepper, Tony, and Bruce. He quickly shut the door to his room a minute later, lying down carefully on his bed, hoping to not jar his stomach further. He was instantly asleep.

The next thing he knew, he woke suddenly and jerked upright in bed, never having actually gotten under the covers. He stumbled off the side of his bed and onto the floor. His vision swam dangerously as his stomach gave a lurch. Still on the floor and not trusting his vision to allow him to walk without falling over, he crawled over to his bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before he was heaving over the side, throwing up everything in his stomach. His face prickled with the effort as he felt tears leak out of his eyes. The small night light in the corner of the bathroom seemed to be pulsating horribly in his vision. He rammed his eyes shut in disgust, but the dizziness seemed to multiply tenfold without his vision to ground him. He felt his forehead slide off of his arm, which he had been leaning up on the toilet seat as a pillow. In one quick movement, his head slid but was then caught by a hand, preventing it from hitting the ground.

“Hey, Pete, hey. Easy, kid,” Tony’s voice said. The cool hand felt merciful on Peter’s burning skin. It felt as though his whole body was being stabbed with knives over and over again. He felt the hand leave his forehead as he leaned over the toilet bowl one more time. He felt as though his stomach was trying to force its way to the outside. He felt Tony stand up as he turned on the full bathroom light. The light pierced his eyes has he gave a strangled yelp as he threw up once more, now only bringing up stomach acid. But…something was wrong. Instead of just acid in his mouth, he tasted something metallic and coppery. He could feel his consciousness going in and out as he tried to stay kneeling on the bathroom floor.

“FRIDAY, wake up Bruce. Tell him to get down to Peter’s room immediately,” he heard Tony say in a panicked voice.

“W’s wr’ng,” Peter mumbled, his head falling again into Tony’s chest.

“Shh, Peter, just relax, ok?” Tony said, holding Peter’s head with his hand against his chest. His voice sounded far away, distant.

“Feel…f’nny,” Peter slurred, his eyes still closed against Tony’s chest.

“Pete, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, ok? Just stay with me here, bud,” Tony asked, now somewhat frantically.

He heard someone hurry into the room and voices started conversing worriedly in the background. He felt a hand on his forehead as the darkness edged into his periphery once more. He wasn’t sure how much time passed.

Suddenly, he was aflame. He let out a gasp as he bared his teeth in agony, his skin feeling as though it was melting off of him.

“T’ny…help,” Peter whined in a constricted voice as he felt himself reposition on all fours.

“Peter, what’s wrong? Just tell me what’s wrong,” he heard Tony say somewhere close to him.

“Put…out…the flames,” he spat, his breath now coming in ragged gasped as he struggled to stay conscious. “M’on…fire,” he breathed.

“Peter, you’re fine, there’s no fire,” Tony said frantically. Peter could feel Tony touching his back, then his arms, then the back of his neck to try and detect some form of danger or injury.

“Bruce, what the hell?” Tony cried desperately as Peter let out a constricted scream of pain.

“Tony, I have no idea,” Bruce said, sounding equally baffled. “We should get him to medbay.”

“Peter, tell me what hurts, ok? Just tell me what hurts,” Tony said, gently holding Peter’s face in his hands.

“E-everything. My blood is on _fire_,” he panted, now beginning to claw at his own arms with his hands.

“Ah, ah, kid, stop,” Tony implored, grabbing both of Peter’s hands in his own. “Come on, I’m going to pick you up.”

This task seemed easier in theory as Tony grabbed Peter’s arms, attempting to lift him on his feet. Peter yelped in pain as Tony quickly hoisted Peter up bridal style. He felt himself being bumped along the compound’s corridors as he felt Tony’s head next to his own.

“Peter, I need you to tell me, _anything_. Did you feel weird today at all? Did anything out of the ordinary happen?!” Tony spoke frantically.

Peter seemed as though he was trying his hardest not to throw up or pass out at this point, but still kept his eyes tight shut and his jaw clenched.

“Spider…bite…” Peter gasped.

“A spider bit you?” Tony sounded astonished. “Hell, kid, what kind of spider? What did it look like?”

“Green…n’black,” Peter replied, sweat donning his face from the effort.

“Tony, I’ve never seen a spider do this to someone,” Bruce murmured.

Peter felt the atmosphere change as they walked through the sliding doors of the medical wing in the compound. He felt himself being laid on a soft surface and his shirt being cut away.

“M-make it s-stop,” Peter slurred weakly, his head lolling onto the surface he had been placed on.

“Peter, listen, I need you to look at me, ok? I need you to stay with us. Just keep listening to my voice,” Tony said, now sounding near hysterical.

“S-so…t-tired,” Peter mumbled. He could feel the darkness creeping up in his vision once more as Tony’s voice became farther and farther away.

“Peter! Kid, do _not_ fall asleep, do you hear me?”

But Tony’s voice was far away now. He could feel his senses slipping away as he tried to hold onto the feeling of _anything_.

_Just make it quick _he thought dully. _Just make it stop _he accepted in his mind as he felt the flames burn him alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up to realize that everything is not what it once was. And more people than he are taking notice...

“Tony.”

“Tony.”

“Come on, man, look at me,” Rhodey said desperately.

They were in medbay. Bruce was in his lab, trying to look up anything that could help them figure out what was wrong with Peter. After throwing up blood, Peter had screamed in an agony that Tony had never heard in his life. After a minor seizure, Peter’s heard had stopped, but was revived by Bruce. He had not woken up.

Peter lie in a bed with a sheet up to his torso, an oxygen mask on his mouth. His skin was deathly pale, except for four inch red blotches that came and went on his skin without any indication as to why. The boy’s arms and legs twitched gently every other second or so, his heartbeat erratic.

Tony felt a hand grab his chin. He looked up into the face of Rhodey, a look of great concern on his face.

“Tony, talk to me,” Rhodey said gently.

“About…what,” Tony said delicately.

“What’s going through your head right now,” Rhodey asked, sitting down beside Tony.

Tony simply looked at his best friend as if to say, _Where do I even start?_

Rhodey seemed to catch the glance because he continued, “Come on, Tones, 2 A.M. MIT whiskey chats. The table is open.”

Tony leaned his chin on his fingertips, staring back at Peter, his eyes misting suddenly.

“I’m thinking…that I don’t know what’s happening and I hate not knowing what is happening and how there is nothing about this I can control because this isn’t just the flu but we have no idea what is happening and I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that my kid might die,” Tony said in one breath, tears slowly running down his face.

“Tony,” Rhodey said with a sigh. “Bruce is working on it right now. Peter seems stable for the moment. I feel like things would have gotten worse in the 6 hours we’ve been sitting here.

“So he’ll live. What if he never wakes up,” Tony whispered, seeming shocked that the words had even escaped his lips.

“Tones, come on, you can’t think like that,” Rhodey said quietly. “It’s only been a few hours. Give it some time. I’m sure Peter will be fine.”

Tony said nothing, not wanting to crush his friend with his own hopelessness. Instead, he placed his head in his hands, trying to take deep breaths.

“Tony, come on, let’s go get some sleep. You need it,” Rhodey.

“I’m not leaving him here,” Tony said, immediately becoming defensive.

Rhodey looked exasperatedly at his friend, thinking.

“I’ll tell you what. Go sleep for a solid seven hours. It’s ten o’clock right now, so give yourself until 5 tomorrow morning. I’ll sit with him until then. Peter will need you at your best when he wakes up.

“He’s just a kid, Rhodey,” Tony whispered.

“He is. A kid who’s going to need you when he wakes up.”

“Come on, kid. You gotta wake up for me,” Tony said softly. It was morning. After six hours of tossing and turning, he had snuck back into the medbay to be by Peter’s side. The boy’s hand lay limp on the sheets, his palm facing up. Tony’s eyes were out of focus as he stared down at the young hands that had so often helped him with Iron Man suit upgrades. He traced up and down his fingers with his own as something startled him out of his reverie. His fingertips felt sticky. Not as if he had been eating candy, but tough and prickly like Velcro or some kind of static effect. He looked closer at Peter’s fingertips and saw that the fingerprint grooves in his skin were deeper and more pronounced than he had every seen, perhaps on any human. It was then that Bruce walked into the room.

“Hey Tony,” Bruce said tiredly. “How are y-”

“Bruce, come here,” Tony said, cutting him off.

“Tony is everyth-” Bruce began, but Tony simply waived him over.

“Look at his fingertips. Feel them. Have you ever seen anything like this?” Tony asked.

Bruce looked closely down at Peter’s hands, his glasses on the tip of his nose. He picked up a scalpel on the side table and turned it over to the blunt side. He took Peter’s forefinger and slowly stroked it with the blunt edge of the instrument. As if jolted by an electrical current, Peter’s finger jumped, causing the boy to turn his head in his sleep, his expression discomforted. He gave a hum in his sleep and let out a huff.

“Peter?!” Tony asked frantically. “Peter, can you hear me? Please, kid, come on. Open your eyes for me.”

Peter’s head continued adjust on his pillow, but with one flutter of his eyelids, his eyes rammed shut, a pained expression on his face.

“Peter? What is it? What’s wrong?” Tony voiced a little louder, only to have Peter turn his head away sharply from the man.

“Bright…l-loud,” Peter whispered, his eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

“FRIDAY, lights at ten percent,” Tony ordered, his voice low. They were bathed in semi darkness as Bruce went over to shut the blinds, soon returning to Peter’s side.

“Peter, can you hear me? It’s ok to open your eyes,” Tony whispered.

In the dim light, Tony saw his adoptive son open his normally brown eyes. It may have been a trick of the low light, but for the slightest second, Tony thought he had seen a glint of green leave the boy’s eyes.

“Tony,” the boy said. He sounded exhausted.

At the sound of his name, Tony’s eyes filled with tears, the last day’s worry catching up to him in a siege of emotion.

“H-hey, kid,” his voice shook. “How are you feeling?”

“Skin…hurts. Everything is…too much. Senses,” he breathed.

Tony looked over at Bruce who seemed as puzzled as he did.

“Peter, how can we help you? Tell us what we can do,” Bruce whispered.

Peter was breathing heavily, trying to claw his way into permanent consciousness, “D-you know how…autistic kids…trouble with…sensory…problems…kinda like that…I think.” Peter’s eyes were still closed.

“Ok, we can help this,” Bruce said, clearly trying to think fast. “Tony, I need you to get Peter’s softest pair of clothes and help him change, but be careful. I’ll be right back. I need to get some things from my office. Peter, will you be ok here by yourself for a few minutes?”

Peter sighed tiredly and nodded. The two men immediately hurried off to their destinations. Five minutes later, Tony hurried into the medbay with Peter’s softest sweatpants and crewneck MIT sweatshirt.

“Bud, come on. Can you sit up for me?” Tony asked quietly. Ever so gently, he helped Peter sit up on the side of the bed as he went to untie his hospital gown. Peter hissed as the rough fabric brushed against his arms as it fell forward, but sighed in relief as Tony carefully pulled the soft sweatshirt over his head and sweatpants over his legs. Bruce came back into the room carrying a large pair of headphones, sunglasses and a glass of water.

“Here, Peter, put these on,” Bruce said, shimmying the glasses over Peter’s eyes. “They block out UV and infrared rays. They’re also polarized for added protection. And these will block out a lot of sound as well,” Bruce finished, placing the pair of noise-cancelling headphones over Peter’s ears. Peter visibly relaxed at the level of protection as he accepted the glass of water from Bruce as well.

“Lukewarm,” Bruce said, handing it to Peter. The boy began to take small sips, his legs dangling over the side of the bed.

“Talk to us, Peter. Are you feeling ok? Does anything hurt?” Tony asked worriedly.

“I feel…weird…” Peter began. “Like I could run a marathon but also like I’ve already run ten of them. My skin is… prickling…and m’c-cold” Peter shivered, despite the sweatshirt. Bruce walked away and came back shortly with a space heater, turning it on at Peter’s feet. The boy relaxed visibly at the warmth.

“Honestly?” Peter said, looking up at the two men, “It feels like puberty on steroids. Like everything is getting an upgrade.”

“And what was going on with your senses?” Bruce asked thoughtfully.

“Everything was way too loud and way too bright- like my senses were going into overdrive. And there’s this…nagging in the back of my head as if something is about to happen, like a sudden burst of fight or flight.”

“Peter…I need you to tell us what happened at Oscorp,” Tony said slowly, searching the boy’s face. “What was that spider that bit you? Where did it come from?”

Peter suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“Peter? Come on, you can tell us,” Bruce said.

“I shouldn’t have been there…” Peter mumbled. “They brought us to a section of the lab where they were testing developments in radiation therapy and experimenting with radioactive isotopes in living creatures. They wouldn’t tell us anything specific and they kept us behind the glass window. We didn’t even go in the room, but…”

“But…?” Tony prompted.

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to look closer. This could be a huge development in what the scientific community knows about this class of elements! It could be the biggest breakthrough in radioactive elements since the 1800s with Marie Curie! So, when a lab tech was leaving as we were, I hung back and snuck in the lab to look closer and…” Peter’s voice trailed away.

“Go on, kid,” Tony urged, his voice retrained.

“There was a spider that was crawling on the outside of the container they were in so I went to see if…if I could put it back in and…” Peter’s face turned red as he looked at his lap, wringing his hands.

“…and it bit you,” Bruce supplied quietly. Peter nodded.

“Peter, I want to take a blood sample, just to analyze if anything is going on molecularly. Is that ok?” Bruce asked. Peter nodded again as Bruce made to get a syringe.

Peter was glad that he had the sunglasses to shield his reddening eyes, but he couldn’t pass off the swipe of his hand as he quickly moved to wipe away the tears that had formed.

“S’my fault,” Peter mumbled, barely audible. “I-I don’t know what’s happening to me,” his voice broke as Bruce extracted a phial of blood.

Tony quickly moved forward, placing a hand on the side of the boy’s head. “Hey. Hey, look at me. This isn’t your fault. Should you have been with your class and not semi-snooping around? Yeah, probably. But you didn’t ask for this to happen. We’re going to figure it out, ok? Everything is going to be ok,” Tony tried to reassure. Peter looked up and smiled sadly, wondering if he should tell Tony that every fiber of his being was telling him it wouldn’t be.

\---------------------------

“You’ll need these,” Norman Osborn said to the soldier. He held up four darts in his hand.

“You get one grace dart each. If the mutation has affected the boy’s metabolism as we have been expecting, a normal tranquilizer will barely do anything; that’s what these are for.” He pointed to the two green darts. “Red is for Stark, green is for Parker. The boy will likely be with Stark and we cannot have any witnesses. Understand? Wait until they’re alone.”

The Winter Soldier nodded.

“Ready to comply.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! An unexpected cliffhanger!!! Comments are so very appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii! I'm so sorry it took longer to post this one. I had a few family emergencies that have delayed writing! Hopefully I'll be able to speed things up, but I can't make any promises. I hope to get each chapter posted at least once every week, but I'm not sure. Hope you enjoy anyway!!!

“Incredible,” Bruce murmured from the microscope.

“What is it?” Tony asked, his arms folded.

Bruce straightened and turned to face Tony and Peter, who looked nervous.

“There’s definite mutation in the blood,” Bruce said matter-of-factly. Peter looked worriedly at Tony, who put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“What does that mean for Peter, Bruce?” Tony asked, feeling the boy begin to tremble underneath his hand.

“I’m not sure. I think that if the spider bite were to have been dangerous, it would be presenting with worsening symptoms. On the contrary, Peter seems to be doing better as time goes on. How do you feel overall, Peter?” Bruce asked.

“I actually feel incredible,” Peter said with wide eyes. “I can breathe easier, my sight is sharper, and I feel more…I don’t know, like I have better control of my body. I just…” his voice trailed away.

“What is it, kid?” Tony asked, concerned.

“It’s like something bad is going to happen. It’s this itch in the back of my head, like something is constantly around the corner I don’t-”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and multiple things happened at once. Peter, who had been sitting on the bed, jumped up with a gasp and roughly pushed down on the shoulders of Tony and Bruce, who staggered and fell onto the floor.

“Get down!” Peter cried, pushing the men to the floor. Before his mind could react to his body, he was on the wall, his legs having jumped sideways, his hands now sticking to the empty white wall. His legs quickly carried him up to the ceiling, where he crouched upside down, breathing heavily.

The two men, who had just gathered themselves after being pushed to the floor, got up and stared at the ceiling.

“OHH my gosh, ok, ok, Peter. Hey, kid, just relax ok?” Tony called, looking left and right, scrabbling for something constructive to do to remedy the situation.

“What are you talking abou-” Peter began, seemingly unaware that he was actually on the ceiling. He looked down at Tony and Bruce and then up at his hands, which were now adjacent to the ceiling fan about five feet away.

“AGH!” Peter yelled, trying to yank his hand off of the white ceiling. His breathing became ragged as he attempted to displace his hands.

“Pete, wait, ok? You’re…you’re going to fall, ok?” Tony called. _He shouldn’t even be able to be up there in the first place_, Tony thought to himself.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened and Peter gasped again, finally wrenching his hands off of the ceiling, resulting in a resounding _CRASH_ onto the floor. Before the incomer could make his presence known, Peter hopped into a crouching position, jutting out his wrist, which shot a string of white _something_, eliciting a cry from the newcomer near the door.

Peter was hyperventilating now, his head darting around the room, his eyes wide, moving between Tony and Bruce, then down to his hands. He then looked up at the newcomer- it was Steve.

“S-S-S-Steve, I’m so s-s-sorry, I-I d-don’t know w-what’s happening,” Peter choked out. Steve, it turns out, was struggling against what looked like webbing, which had secured his right hand to the wall by the door.

Bruce made to help Steve across the room while Tony gently grabbed the boy’s hands, holding them in his own.

Tony let out a gasp as he turned the boy’s wrists upward.

“Bruce,” he called, willing his voice to stay calm.

“I’ll be right there, Tony. Just give me a sec,” Bruce said.

“Bruce. I need you here. Right. Now.” Tony commanded stiffly. He heard whispering by the door.

“Just leave it with me Bruce, I can take it from here,” Steve murmured under his breath, now taking a scalpel from Bruce and continuing to cut through the webbing.

Bruce hurried over to Tony, both men still trying to hide their incredulity about what was happening.

“Bruce, what is this,” Tony asked, not even looking at the scientist.

Bruce took Peter’s wrists in his hands to find a small flap, not unlike a fish gill on each of Peter’s wrists. They’d be easily missed if Tony hadn’t been wary.

“Peter,” Bruce spoke gently. “Is this where that…material… came from?”

Peter’s head was turned away, his eyes shut tight. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to run away or sink into the floor. Nevertheless, he nodded stiffly.

He heard whispering once more as rougher hands replaced Bruce’s. Hands that could make him come undone with the slightest provocation.

“Peter,” Tony spoke. The boy did not look up.

“Peter, look at me,” Tony said a little more firmly. He removed one of the hands off of Peter’s wrists to gently tilt his chin up to face his own. Peter’s eyes met Tony’s, the boy’s eyes filled with tears and absolute terror. Tony moved a hand up to Peter’s head, slowly stroking his hair in an attempt to calm the boy. It was like trying to calm a scared feral animal.

“I’m a freak.” The whisper was barely audible, even in the tense silence of the room. Had Tony not been standing so close, he might not have heard the proclamation the boy wished against everything to be false.

“You’re not a freak, Peter,” Tony said, equally as soft. Peter’s eyes closed again, two tears falling off of his eyelashes.

“What am I?”

“You’re Peter Benjamin Parker, my adopted son, and we are going to figure this out. We’re going to figure this all out, ok?”

Peter glanced over at Steve, who had finally cut away from the webbing and was now rubbing his wrist.

“N-no…I have to get out of here. I’m a d-danger to you all,” he said backing away, his voice rising.

“Peter, sto-” Bruce began, but Peter’s eyes went wide once more.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” he yelled, mostly out of fear. He was trying to take huge gulps of air again, holding his hands out in front of him, away from his body. “I-I’m dangerous!” he continued.

Tony looked over at Bruce and the two seemed to communicate something between them. Tony then walked forward towards Peter, despite the boy’s attempt to retreat.

“Peter. Kid,” he said calmly.

“N-no! Stop, Mister Stark. It’s not safe,” Peter tried to warn, but Tony placed an arm around Peter, keeping his voice low and steady.

“Let’s take a walk, kid. Let’s get some air, ok?” Tony offered kindly. Peter seemed to be losing energy to argue, so he allowed Tony to steer him out of the room, not looking at the two men they were leaving behind.

“Deep breaths, kid,” Tony said occasionally as they traveled down to the lower level of the compound. He rubbed smooth circles around the boy’s back as they stepped out into the warm spring night air.

“Peter,” Tony asked carefully. “Why did you tell us to get down when Cap opened the door?”

Peter took a few deep breaths to try and steady himself. “It was like this pang of anxiety just shot through me, like something was about to happen.”

“Like you knew someone was going to come through the door?” Tony asked, trying to wrap his head around this new information.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it was accurate; like Cap isn’t dangerous, you know? It was just a surprise.”

“And the stuff that came out of your wrists…” Tony prompted.

“I don’t know. It happened before I could even think what to do. It was like an instinct. The same with…clinging to the wall,” he added quietly, his head down.

“We’ll figure this out, ok?” Tony said with an arm around Peter’s shoulder. “I won’t-” Tony stopped as Peter’s form became rigid, standing still looking towards the wooded area behind the compound.

“Pete, what is it? What-” but before Tony could finish the sentence, many things happened at once.

“Tony!” Peter yelled as he whipped around, planting himself against Tony’s chest, Peter’s back to the forest. Tony heard something hiss through the air with a soft _thk _as it hit Peter’s back. Peter staggered off of Tony in surprise as Tony felt a piercing sting in his neck. His surroundings began to blur as he struggled to stay upright. He could hear Peter shouting his name as he vaguely heard another _hiss_ through the air and Peter gasp in surprise. He thought he sensed Peter sink to his knees beside him as he looked up to see a long-haired, metal armed…_someone_.

“Y-you,” he breathed as he succumbed to the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you hurt him, I swear I will not stop until this place is burned to the fucking ground! Do you hear me? And you better believe I’ll make sure you’re inside when it burns."  
Peter enters dangerous territory, Tony tries to do anything he can. (I hate chapter summaries lol).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Just some continuity/ timeline notes: This story isn’t following a typical MCU timeline. This is ultimately taking place some time after The Winter Soldier, but Tony already knows that Bucky killed his parents in the past and he and Steve never had a rift because 1- They both found out at the same time (before the events of this fic) and Bucky is still on shaky mental ground (but his slight recognition of Steve in CAtWS is still relevant here and part of the history) so Steve is still unsure about how to move forward from here regarding Bucky.

Tony woke slowly, blearily attempting to take into his surroundings. His environment was dark and bleak, with a small light hanging above him. He sat up on a bed he appeared to have been sleeping on as his eyes finally rested on a barred door, like a jail cell. Shaking off the residual dizziness, he got up and quickly crossed to the bars.

“Peter?” he called, his voice quivering. “Peter!” he called louder. He felt his breathing begin to quicken as the weight of his predicament came crashing down around him. He froze as he heard footsteps shuffling outside his cell.

“Who’s there?” he called.

A shadow moved into Tony’s eyesight and became the human figure of Bucky Barnes. Tony felt hot, sick anger flood through his body like a serpent.

“You,” Tony hissed, malice lacing his voice. The Winter Soldier did not respond, but stood there, guarding Tony’s cell.

Tony’s hands gripped the bars of the cell, “Listen here,” he hissed. “I don’t know what you did with Peter but I am going to fucking find out. And if even one hair on his head is damaged, you won’t only have me to answer to, but a few more of my friends. Oh wait, I forgot- we have a mutual acquaintance. I’m sure Steve Rogers will want to know why you put both of us in harms way…and where you’ve been since D.C.”

At the mention of Steve’s name, Bucky’s eyes hardened as something flashed behind the brown irises.

“Do you hear me? I said, _do you hear me,_” Tony growled. The Winter Soldier blinked and walked out of the room.

“Hey!” Tony yelled, slamming his hands onto the bars. “If you hurt him, I swear I will not stop until this place is burned to the fucking ground! Do you hear me? And you better believe I’ll make sure you’re inside when it burns,” Tony called as he felt hot tears cascade down his face.

______________________________

The first thing Peter realized was that he was lying on something hard and that it was cold. His body shivered involuntarily, making him aware that his arms and legs were securely fastened to whatever he was lying on. He opened his eyes only to be assaulted by a bright light above him, making him clench his eyelids in pain. Slowly, he opened his eyes once more, but only by an infinitesimal amount. He looked to be in a small laboratory room, with traces here and there similar to a hospital: a defibrillator, a tray containing medical equipment such as stethoscopes, syringes, alcohol and gauze, and various other devices used to detect vital signs. He was also wearing a thin hospital gown, accounting for the chill he felt.

The back of his neck tingled with that same fear as when Tony and he were in the forres- _TONY!_ The realization of where he had been before this made him flinch on the table and dart his head back and forth, trying to find signs of his adopted father. There was no one in the room. His heart rate began to quicken as he struggled to bring air into his lungs. Suddenly, the door to the room burst open as three people walked in, all wearing doctor-type clothing- a man followed by another man and then a woman.

“Mr. Parker, how nice of you to join us, the man said coldly, but with definite excitement in his voice. Just then, another man walked in the door. It was the man with a metal arm again. Peter’s breathing quickened as memories came flooding back to him. Not looking at Peter, the metal-armed man leaned towards the scientist who had spoken to Peter and whispered something in his ear.

“You’re the one that brought him here,” the scientist said dangerously. “If you cannot manage your mistake, I will have to make permanent arrangements for you.”

The man straightened up quickly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Peter felt as though he had taken the rest of the air with him as well.

“Sorry about that, Peter,” the head scientist said, crouching down to speak softly into Peter’s ear, making him shiver. “Allow me to introduce myself. Norman Osborn. I see that you have discovered our latest project a little before we had intended. I have to admit, it wasn’t what we had planned but maybe I’ll just have to take a piece of advice from your dad, Stark, huh? Sometimes you have to run before you can walk.”

Osborn turned Peter’s arm so his palm and the underside of his arm faced upward. Ever so gently, Osborn traced the veins in Peter’s arm with a long finger, then resting on the slit in his wrist where he was able to produce the white substance back at the compound.

“Incredible,” he breathed.

“Let me go,” Peter spat through clenched teeth, trying hard not to panic. “Where is Tony?”

“Never you mind that, right now, and not quite yet. You just became our most interesting test subject. We can’t have you sneaking off, now can we? You just became part of something much bigger. We need to know more about you- see how much of a spider you actually are.”

He stood up, turning to cart behind him. “Let’s begin, shall we?” And the locks binding him to the table clicked open. Before Peter could even think to move, a collar was fastened around his neck with a tight _click_.

“Try to run and you won’t like what it does,” the man who had entered initially with Osborn said.

Peter was led down a hallway by the man and the woman and into a much more spacious room, not unlike a basketball court. He was roughly pushed forward.

“On the “X”. Now,” the woman spat harshly. Too terrified to argue, Peter stumbled forward where a large black “X” was marked by duct tape on the ground. Before he could notice that Osborn had not entered with them, his voice came across a loud speaker, ringing sharply in Peter’s ears. Peter stared, mouth agape, up at a viewing box on the wall perpendicular to where he was standing. Normal Osborn was sitting there, around ten additional scientists in the box with him.

“We are going to test your strength, Peter. If you look above you…” Osborn said as Peter looked up. Above him was an anvil, hanging by a rope. Peter, who had never been strong but felt as though he was stronger after the spider bite, wasn’t as nervous as he could have been. Before he could test his strength on the anvil, however, two men came in the room bringing a large sheet of metal.

“You will hold this up, Peter. If you are able to withstand the weight of the current obstacle, we will add more items to the metal board.

Peter began to tremble, “W-what if it crushes me?”

“Quiet, subject,” one of the men spat at Peter. They then proceeded to rest the metal board on Peter’s hands. It wasn’t heavy at all, Peter found.

“Begin,” Osborn’s voice called.

Suddenly, Peter felt four loud _clangs_ hit each corner of the board as not one, but four anvils were placed on the board above him. He grunted as he adjusted to the weight, but he could still hold it.

“Next,” Osborn instructed.

Four more anvils were placed in the center of the board, but Peter continued to hold the weight.

“Next,” Osborn continued.

Suddenly, Peter felt a sudden _thud_ as something _huge _was placed on top of him and his legs began to shake. Above the board, he thought he saw a hubcap sticking out. They had put a _fucking car_ on top of him. Peter began to breath quicker as he tried to comprehend the sheer fact that he was holding a car, instead of that he was quickly losing strength.

“Next,” Osborn commanded.

“I-I can’t,” Peter gasped, but to no avail. Another loud _thud_ and his knees gave way as he sunk to the floor, but still he held it up. Tears were now leaking from his ears. “P-please, st-stop,” he begged as one more soft _tink_ was rested on his shoulders and he collapsed underneath the weight with a resounding _crash_.

His head was protected by a gap in the rubble, but his ribs and shoulders gave painful stabs as he attempted to move. He felt something hot and wet trickle down his cheek as the weight began to be pulled off of him. He gasped and coughed as he breathed cleaner air as he looked to the side to what had been pulled off of him. There were two decent sized pickup trucks and nine anvils which Peter could see a _1000_ etched on the side. He lie there and breathed heavily until a voice commanded, “Up, subject.”

He couldn’t think to move but then the cursed pain of the collar shocked him into submission. Clutching his side, blood still running down his face, he stood on the “X” once more. The woman who had entered with them came to stand in front of him, but about thirty feet away.

“Ok, Peter. Vera here is going to shoot at you now. You will dodge the bullets.” Osborn stated as if he were explaining a game of golf.

“W-what? No! You’re insane! How am I supposed to dodge bullets?! I’ll get hit! You- you can’t do this t-to m-” his sentence was cut off by a stabbing pain in his neck as the collar sent a surge of electricity down his body. He gasped and let out a yelp as he sunk to his knees, trying to grab at the collar around his neck. Through his blurry eyes, he saw the woman he had entered with come to stand in line with him, but about thirty feet away.

“You will dodge the bullets so we can see how sharp your reflexes are, Peter.”

“Go to hell,” Peter spat, his voice sounding braver than what he was feeling. His neck had not stopped prickling since he had entered the room and his muscles seemed to twitch with the anticipation.

_This must be what it is like to walk to your death_ he thought as he closed his eyes.

“Begin,” the voice of Norman Osborn sounded.

Peter’s chest was heaving with the anticipation of what was to come, but before he knew it, his left shoulder was wrenched sideways as he heard the sound of gunfire. Next, his mind screamed “_Right”_ as his right shoulder ducked down to avoid a second bullet. He stared up in amazement as he came to terms with the fact that his bodily reflexes had just _dodged two bullets_ without him even thinking. Before he could marvel in his victory, however, he had the sudden urge to _DUCK_ and _JUMP!_ as two more bullets were aimed towards his head and his feet.

“Impressive,” Osborn’s voice rang across the hall. “Now with the blindfold.”

Peter spun around in disbelief, “W-what? How am I supposed to see? How will I know when to dodge them?!”

Osborn said nothing as the man who had entered with them walked towards Peter. Peter began to back away until the collar around his neck initiated a sharp sting. He stood up shakily as the man placed a black blindfold around his eyes, plunging Peter into darkness.

His body reacted instinctually as he jerked his arm out of the way of a speeding bullet. Before he could draw breath, he was ducking again and then sidestepping left to miss two more bullets, which had begun to increase in frequency. After five more bullets, he felt his head spin with dizziness as he became more disoriented as to what he was supposed to be doing, his ribs still screaming in protest from the previous test. Before he could gather his thoughts, however, a blinding pain flashed through his shoulder as he crumpled to the ground in pain.

“Stop,” Osborn called.

_________________________________

A loud crash shook the cell as the Winter Soldier returned to his post outside of Tony’s cell.

“Back to be a silent ass bitch again?” Tony spat. Suddenly, Tony sprung to his feet as he heard a series of gunshots.

“Peter,” he breathed.

“What are they doing? They- they aren’t shooting at- No, is Peter, PETER!” he stammered, finishing with a yell.

“What are they doing? Goddammit let me _OUT_ of here,” Tony begged hysterically. The Winter Soldier simply stood there and walked out of the room again, bringing a tray with half a loaf of bread and some water. He slipped it through a small door in the cell. Tony had no interest in what the man had to give him. He glared at the soldier and went to sit on the cot in the corner, leaving the tray untouched in the middle of the floor. After about an hour, he sat up. The gunshots had ceased and he looked again at the tray that the soldier, who was still maintaining his silent watch, had given him. He froze. Underneath the bread was poking out a small piece of folded paper. He grabbed it, turned his back to the camera in the corner, and opened it with trembling hands. On it were five scrawled lines:

_Son of the shield_

_Ally of the Rebirth_

_The Red water drips through the Apple_

_You can fly with the aid of the Winter wind_

_To liberate the heir of the arc._

Tony looked up, dumbfounded, “What the hell is this?” The soldier merely looked at him, unblinking.

“Who wrote this? Did you write this?” he asked breathlessly, his hands now on the bars of the cell. The soldier simply looked down at the paper, blinked, looked back up at Tony, and with one infinitesimal nod, left the room once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Runs*  
Please let me know what you think of this!!! Things are going to start and get super serious now! If you think you know what that last message means, try and be vague in the comments! I don't want it to be spoiled for anyone! I ran it by my friend and she had no idea what I was trying to say but I think I'm being super obvious, so hopefully it will be somewhere in the middle! Please let me know what you think in the comments! It motivates me to keep writing!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cutting heat and beginning temperature reduction."

Peter lay gasping on the hard metal table to which he had been returned. His arm was in a sling from the wound he had sustained, but little medical care had been given. He felt the prickling sensation in his shoulder (that he had honestly expected to have lasted longer). Before he could fully push the pain out of his head, the door opened for the first time that morning and Norman Osborn walked in, followed by two other scientists. He walked over to Peter, lifted the bandage over his shoulder to examine the wound underneath, made a noise under his breath, and then walked out, leaving the two scientists in the room with Peter.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked. The scientists did not answer, but began to take off his thin hospital gown and attaching electrodes and other monitors to Peter’s chest and hands. Without a word, they left the room, leaving him strapped to the table in his boxers.

Norman Osborn’s voice spoke through the speakers in the room, “We will be testing temperature sensitivity and endurance on Subject 001. Cutting heat and beginning temperature reduction.”

“W-what?” Peter gasped. He had never been good with the cold, being a smaller person. “S-stop, please…” he asked weakly to the empty room. Immediately, he could feel cool air rushing in through the vents near the ceiling. His body immediately gave a shudder as the warmth in the room vanished. Goosebumps traveled up his skin and down his spine as he gave a vicious shudder on the table, unable to stop himself. A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye, only to sting even more as it froze to his skin. He took a breath to calm himself, only to see his breath greet him in a puff of condensation in front of his eyes.

_____________________________

_“How are you always so cold, kid?” Tony asked jokingly, placing another blanket over the boy._

_“I don’t know! I think it’s because of this condition called Raynaud’s that I’ve had for ages. It’s no big deal, but heat has a hard time getting to my extremities.”_

_“Shit, kid, I didn’t know that,” Tony said, now serious._

_“It’s no big deal. It’s not dangerous. Especially not if I have you to put my cold feet on,” Peter said with a malicious grin._

_“Oh yeah, lucky me,” Tony said, rolling his eyes as he violently flinched when Peter inched his feet under the blanket to touch Tony’s arm on the couch._

_“Just tell me whenever you’re cold, ok? You don’t have to live with this and just grin and bear it,” Tony said seriously._

_“Ok,” Peter said, his face going a bit red. _

“I’m going to ask you again, did you write this,” Tony asked wearily for the hundredth time to Bucky. “If I’m going to decode this thing, I need to know the context in which it was written, _namely_ the writer. If you don’t want to tell me, you can just blink twice for yes and once for no,” Tony begged behind the bars.

The soldier suddenly rushed forward to the bars and grabbed Tony by the collar of his shirt. He looked up into the corner of Tony’s cell towards a small security camera pointing directly at them.

“Silence, prisoner,” he threatened. Tony looked into the intense brown eyes staring back at him as they blinked not once, but twice.

_______________________

Peter didn’t know where he was or why he was there. He barely knew who he was.

His body had begun to shiver within the first minute. By ten minutes, his body convulsed with the effort to stay warm. By fifteen minutes, the shivering had stopped. He now lay on the table, barely feeling the sting of cold metal against his bare skin. His breath came in low, slow exhales. His lips were chapped and numb and his eyes felt as though they would never move again. He simply lay there like a cut marionette, waiting to die. In the recesses of his mind, he heard a door slam open and hands begin to touch his skin. Peter could barely feel them through the numb exterior or his skin. He heard muffled voices and snapping in his ears. Vaguely he felt someone lifting his hand and pressing on all of his fingers. A light was shone in his eyes, but his pupils did not dilate, nor was he aware enough for it to be uncomfortable. Someone’s face entered his cloudy vision and he gave a weak gasp. Tony’s face hovered above his own, concerned and terrified.

“T’ny…g’me out ‘f h’r,” he slurred worse than ever. Tony’s face vanished as Peter attempted to turn his head, looking for where his father had gone. He heard muffled voices above him.

“Subject…hallucinating… off…threshold,” came broken speech as Peter flitted in and out of consciousness.

The only thing his body registered next was that the ever-present stream of cold air stopped as he was left alone once more. The hands continued to touch him as the sensation slowly began to return to his fingertips.

“S…st’p,” he slurred, turning his head away from the lights above. His head was pushed back to center as his eyes were held open once more, light shining through. He felt more tears fall, but this time, they did not freeze, but continued to fall as light was shone through eyes that had begun to lose their own.

__________________________

“So this is from you,” Tony said in a whisper more to himself, leaning back against the wall with the note. He ran his hand across his face as he looked blearily towards the dismal ceiling. He was only given a small loaf of bread and a glass of cold water each day and it was beginning to get to him. It was getting harder to think with the constant brain fog and rumbling in his stomach.

“What do you want me to know,” Tony asked under his breath. Bucky did not move or look at him, but remained as a sentinel against he wall across from the bars of Tony’s cell.

“Alright then,” Tony said blearily, “Son of the shield,” he mumbled, wracking his tired brain.

_The shield…like Cap’s shield… The son of Cap? Cap doesn’t have a son…or does he?! Stop Tony, no he doesn’t. It wouldn’t be in this clue if you didn’t know he had a son. That would be pointless. Wait. The son of the shield. My father made the shield. Of course. Bucky would have known my father because Cap knew my father. The son of the shield…the maker of the shield is…is…_me. _Holy shit. Ok. Ok._

“Is the son of the shield me?” he mouthed Bucky, only to be met with stoic disregard, as the soldier looked straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with the engineer.

“Ally of the rebirth,” Tony whispered, his heart now quickening. _Ally of the rebirth… Rebirth of what? The Avengers? The Avengers were a new concept, not a rebirth. Rebirth…of Hydra? Shit, please no… Who’s an ally of Hydra? You? Bucky? No, _Bucky_ wouldn’t be an ally of Hydra. The Winter Soldier would but not Bucky. Bucky gave me this message as information, not the Winter Soldier. But the rebirth of _what?! _I’ll come back to that. Let me start from the bottom… _To liberate the heir of the arc_. The fuck does that mean. What is the arc? _His heart pounded as if to give him the answer. _The arc reactor! Shit. Shit, ok. The arc reactor is me and has always been me. Who’s my heir? Pepper? _The realization washed over him like a tidal wave. Who would he give his entire world to in a heartbeat? Peter. The boy who was God knows where, as he tried to figure out a way to save him. _Save him. The heir of the arc. My heir. MY heir. To liberate the heir of the arc. Liberate means to free. To free Peter. TO FREE PETER!_

Tony swallowed heavily as he came to terms with this sudden revelation. This note was about saving Peter, he just didn’t know how. Bucky Barnes had just given him a letter detailing to him how Tony could save Peter.

“Is this a note telling me how to save Peter?!” Tony whispered frantically, barely audible. Still, Bucky stared ahead, not acknowledging Tony.

“Fine, then, keep your secrets,” Tony scoffed, feeling a rush of emotion at his unintentional Lord of the Rings reference, in which Peter would be proud.

_________________________________

Peter felt as though he was burning. His fingertips felt as though they were being pierced by barbed wire and his head spun. The air was warming up and he was alone again, still strapped to the table. Was the table moving? He was so dizzy. He felt as though his head was stationary and his body whirled like a carousel. Before he realized what was happening, his back arched as he quickly turned his head to vomit onto the floor. He was shivering and burning at the same time and the nausea refused to leave his throat. The door banged open as three men entered. Two began cleaning the vomit off of the floor while the other pulled a syringe out of the drawer and slipped it roughly into Peter’s vein. He felt the nausea climb briefly before he was thrown into darkness.

__________________________________

Tony was pacing now. Bone deep exhaustion permeated his being as he tried to figure out the words on the paper. Riddles had never been his strong suit. Give him concrete science, not word games. He rubbed his hands over his face as he went back to the line at hand.

“Ally of the rebirth,” Tony huffed. He had no clue. He looked at the paper again. His heart froze. It wasn’t _Ally of the rebirth. _It was _Ally of the Rebirth_. Capital “R”, not lowercase. He noticed other words were capitalized as well. He would keep that in mind. _Rebirth is a proper noun. What is called Rebirth? Son of the shield is the son of Howard. Ally of the Rebirth. Ally is friend. Rebirth. Rebirth. _Rebirth. _Project Rebirth? Wait. That’s the experiment Steve was a part of. That’s what it was called! Project Rebirth. Steve _is_ the Rebirth! Ally of the Rebirth is the friend of Steve. I’m Steve’s friend. Bucky knows I’m Steve’s friend. Bucky knows who Steve is…he remembers we’re friends. But he’s also a friend of Steve’s. Who is he talking about? Me? Or him? Doesn’t matter. Maybe both of us._

_The Red water drips through the Apple. The _Red_ water drips through the _Apple. _Red could be blood but the word is capitalized. Red. Red is usually associated with Russia. Russian water? He can’t be talking about vodka…No, what’s another word for water… aqua… hydrous… hydrating… hydro…hyd…_ Tony’s blood ran cold. Russian water. Russian…hydro…Hydra. Hydra was a Russian sect. He was talking about Hydra. _Hydra drips through the Apple…the capital “A” Apple. New York. _Tony sunk to the floor. _Hydra drip through New York, which is where they were now. Hydra couldn’t be…here…could it?_ On shaking legs, Tony walked slowly over to the bars on his cell. Bucky met his eyes. Barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat, he whispered.

“Has Hydra got Peter?”

The Winter Soldier blinked twice. Tony put his hand over his mouth as he backed away against the wall. He ran his shaking hand through his hair as he turned back to the note.

_You can fly with the aid of the Winter wind. _

_I can fly…in my Iron Man suit? Or just move and do stuff? With the aid of the Winter wind. Winter is capitalized. Winter. Winter. December? January? No, it can’t be a month. Winter. Oh my god, Tony don’t be an idiot. The Winter Soldier. Him. Bucky. You can fly with the aid of Bucky. Bucky is going to help you._

Tony’s breath came in ragged gasps as he put together what he had just discovered. He let his back slide down the wall once more. Bucky looked at him with a hard gaze, placing one finger to his lips. Tony got up again, crossing to the bars. The Winter Soldier stepped forward.

Barely moving his lips, Tony spoke, “You know who you are. You remember Steve and me. Hydra has Peter…and you’re going to help me save him and get out of here.”

Bucky Barnes blinked twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like! This fic is going slower than I usually do, but your comments really do keep me writing and motivated!!! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Did they even want to look for him? The thought fell into his mind before he could stop it, and tears fell just as quickly. The truth was, they probably weren’t looking for him. They were probably scared. Scared of what he had become"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING***: light insinuation of self-harm idealization

Peter soon lost track of days and nights. Sleep was interrupted by night terrors of no particular subject. He closed his eyes on the small medical room only for it to greet him in his dreams. The cuffs that they kept him in were too strong to break, but he doubted he would even be able to with the strength he had left. Tremors shook his body from lack of movement and proper food. They fed him, but only through an IV and an occasional solid food, which was embarrassingly, hand fed to him. He didn’t see a way out and his mind wandered to Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Where were they? Were they even looking for him? He closed his eyes, trying to push the horrid idea out of his head. The door opened and he didn’t jump. He had stopped jumping when the door opened a while ago. It did no good. It was as if his fight of flight had given up, or was simply dormant, as if not struggling would keep him safer. This time, however, there was no commotion around him. Only one scientist came in, unlocked something on the bottom of the cart he was laying on and he felt himself begin to move.   
“Where are you taking me?” Peter asked wearily. He received no response.

He passed by overhead light by overhead light, doors on his left and his right. They took a right down a hallway, then another right, then a left into a door until they were in a larger room. From the corner of his eye, he could see what looked like an X-ray machine. He had broken his finger when he was younger and Ben and May had to take him to the hospital. One X-ray, setting the bone, a hand cast, and his favorite ice cream later, he had been good to go. For some reason, Peter sensed that this experience would not hold memories of being loved and cared for, but he found he had no energy to care. Four more scientists entered the room as Peter’s heard weakly tried to quicken.

They were getting closer to him now, one scientist switching the film on the machine and one scientist walking over to stand on his left side. One nod from the man with the film and the scientist on Peter’s left put two additional heavy metal straps on Peter’s left arm- one on his wrist and another on his elbow. A third scientist walked over, carrying a heavy metal hammer. The second scientist moved aside to be replaced by the scientist with the hammer.

“What are y-” Peter began frantically. Before he could finish, the man had raised the hammer and brought it down hard on Peter’s arm. Peter felt his arm snap as an earsplitting scream was ripped from his throat. He felt bile rise up in his throat as the second scientist returned and positioned the X-ray machine over Peter’s arm. They left the room, assumedly took an X-ray (Peter vaguely remembered the _brrr_ of the machine), removed the film and then left the room once more, leaving Peter gasping on the table, sweat pouring off of his face.

About ten minutes later (hell, it could have been an hour), a scientist came back in, refed the film in the machine, left, took another X-ray, then left again. Peter was left on the table, alone in the room for what seemed like an hour. The scientist came in five more times to take the X-ray of his arm. Peter could almost cry in relief as the pain began to recede from his arm. _This shouldn’t be happening, _he thought. Why wasn’t his arm hurting? Before the idea of shock could be contemplated, the man with the hammer came back once more. The scientist who had strapped his arm down before returned as well, this time, securing his leg firmly to the table.

“N-no, please, please don’t do this,” Peter whimpered feebly. As he had expected, they did not reply, nor did they look at him. Peter only had time to turn his head and close his eyes before he felt the most incredible pain he had ever felt in his left thigh. He heard his femur snap like a gunshot milliseconds before his body allowed him to register the pain. He quickly turned his head to the side as he vomited from the sheer pain of it. The scientists paid no notice as they set up the films again, leaving him to wait every ten minutes to take another picture.

Peter’s head swum. _Let me die._ He thought desperately. _Just let me die. _

_____________________________

Tony’s nightmare was cut short by the sound of screaming.

“Peter,” he breathed from his cot. He stood up quickly, his vision swimming before him. When was the last time he had eaten anything substantial?

Tony gave a hard look to the Winter Soldier, and then remembering the camera, breathed, “What is your plan?”

A glimmer flashed across Bucky’s eyes. Was it fear?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before pressing a button on his metal arm. Tony immediately keeled over, clutching his head as earsplitting sonic waves issued from around Bucky’s arm. He gasped and spluttered as he gripped the bars of the cell. Bucky fell with him, grabbing Tony’s shirt collar and bringing Tony’s ear as close as he could to his mouth.

“They will come for you to use you as collateral. We have to wait. Follow my lead,” Tony heard in a frantic whisper.

He convincingly shoved Tony back onto the ground where he groaned, still clutching his head. Suddenly, the door banged open as a henchman walked in.

“Soldier, what was that?” he asked menacingly.

“The prisoner lunged at the bars one time too many. I had to teach him a lesson,” Bucky said, his eyes cold.

“You know they don’t want you using that,” the man said, tilting his eyes to Bucky’s arm. “It interferes with the camera signal.”

“Understood,” Bucky replied, not looking at the henchman, but returning to his post against the wall.

“We’ll have use for you both soon enough,” the man said. “Reduced portions for him until further notice for giving you trouble,” he added, walking out of the door once more.

Tony lifted his head weakly as the door slammed shut. Still unable to stand through the residual pounding in his head, he edged back against the floor so his back rested on the side of the cot. He looked up at the Winter Soldier, knowing what this brief message had caused them both. Bucky met his eyes as he placed a fist on his chest, moving it in a small circle.

_I’m sorry,_ he signed.

_________________________________________

Peter didn’t know how long he was left there. All he knew was that he could only focus on taking one breath after the other. _In, out, in, out. _How odd it was to have to force yourself to breathe normally. The next thing he knew, he was being wheeled back into the room in which he had began, still strapped to the table. The bright lights assaulted his eyes as the moved back into the middle of the room. He was just able to take a breath before a new scientist approached the cart next to the gurney, pulling out a small, yet incredibly sharp looking knife. Peter’s breath quickened, knowing nothing good would come from this. The scientist crouched next to his ear.

“I wouldn’t struggle. It only makes you bleed faster,” he said. Peter’s eyes stared imploringly at the man, his head trying to shake back and forth.

“You don’t have to do this. Please, you don’t have to. You could just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, please. Just let me go,” Peter begged. The man laughed.

“There’s no one coming for you. It’s about time you got that through your head, subject.”

Without another word, he leaned his head close to Peter’s arm and dragged the blade lightly over Peter’s skin. A second scientist in the corner clicked what looked like a stopwatch in the corner.

Peter hissed at the pain, but after breaking his bones, this was a cakewalk. A few seconds passed until the scientist next to Peter spoke.

“Done,” he said to the room as the second scientist clicked the stopwatch again.

“Number 2,” he said as he dragged the blade across Peter’s skin once more, this time going a bit deeper.

Peter shut his eyes and gave a hum that left his mouth as a laugh.

“Is something funny, subject?” he said quietly.

“You’re some sick bastards. You’re inhuman.” Peter spat, still smiling for whatever reason.

“Done,” he called once more as the stopwatch clicked again and the scientist in the corner scribbled on a notepad.

This time, the scientist near Peter cut Peter’s arm deliberately, tearing through the first few layers of skin. Peter’s back arched as he let out a groan. The scientist leaned close to his ear.

“You’re one to call me “inhuman”, subject. Last time I checked, you’re the most inhuman thing here. You’re lucky we don’t put you in a zoo, arachnid freak.”

Peter’s blood ran cold as the words tore through him like ice. _What was he_?

“Done,” he called again as the stopwatch clicked.

The knife came down once more, as a scream was rent from Peter’s mouth. He heard the light _pat pat_ as droplets of blood fell from his arm to the floor. Peter’s head swam as all his focus was turned towards the pain in his arm. He found it was easier to focus on that than the thoughts swirling around his head and the words that the scientist had spoken to him.

_You’re the most inhuman thing here._

_Arachnid freak._

His thoughts toward the pain faltered as his head returned back to the present, where the scientist was now preparing for another cut. The knife cut right to the bone as Peter let out an earsplitting scream, tears falling in earnest, sweat cascading down his face, and blood dripping into a steady stream onto the floor.

Except this cut did not heal immediately. Whatever healing he had been gifted with and that was now being tested had reached its limit.

He felt his eyes drift in and out of focus as the _pat pat_ of his own blood lulled him into a stupor. He was so, so tired. His body would not let him rest, however. It brought him back to focus on the pain, as to not focus on the insults swirling around his head.

_What was he? _They barely had time to figure that out at the compound before he had been taken. A cold panic rippled through his body as the truth of the situation cascaded down upon him. He ruled out that he was not going to die from whatever the spider had done to him. The effects of the spider bite were not going away and were not fluctuating in any reliable pattern, meaning, they might be permanent. _Permanent_.

The word dripped off the edges of his brain for a few moments as he struggled to wrap his head around that fact.

_I will never be the same again_.

He shivered.

Was the team even looking for him? Did they know where he was? His thoughts traveled to Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint, Rhodey, and Tony.

_Freak._

_Inhuman._

_Did they even want to look for him? _The thought fell into his mind before he could stop it, and tears fell just as quickly. The truth was, they probably weren’t looking for him. They were probably scared. Scared of what he had become. Hell, he was terrified.

_You probably shouldn’t even leave this lab. _

_You’re a danger to the world. _

_You should be thanking them for removing you from society._

“Done,” the words shocked him out of his reverie as he repositioned his tearstained face to look at the scientists, who were both writing on clipboards, then began undoing the locks strapping Peter down to the table. Vaguely, he felt two pairs of hands lift him up while he heard softly in his ear, “Fight and you die,” as he was lifted and carried out of the room. Before his mind could register what was happening, he was thrown into a small room, no more than 10x10 feet. The walls were padded and the door gave a tight _hiss_ as it was closed behind him. He got shakily to his feet as he looked down at his arm. Only a faint red scar remained of the gash that had been inflicted over and over again. He brushed his fingers against the mark as a voice echoed over the speaker.

“Commence Stage 6. Begin to reduce oxygen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeep when will I stop hurting Peter? Not yet. Stay tuned for more! I live for your comments <3 <3 <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was never leaving here. They weren’t coming to get him. He was going to die here and he deserved it. He didn’t belong in the world with normal people anymore.

Peter didn’t notice anything at first. Sure, the air in the room felt horribly artificial, but he could still breathe. All he could focus on was the thought that nothing seemed more pleasurable than to curl up in the corner and wait for whatever was going to happen to happen. His fight or flight response sent irregular and weak pangs of panic that nearly spurred him into action, but the sheer helplessness of the situation permeated every atom in his body. It was as if his body just wanted to implode. He took two staggering breaths before his body realized he wasn’t strapped down to anything anymore. He was free, but at the same time, he wasn’t. Peter didn’t know how this was any different, but his body rippled with a feeling he had not felt in many days (weeks?). He was free…but he was trapped. He felt a tear leak from his eye as his breathing became heavier. The physical sensation of what had been happening began to crash over him like waves on a seashore.

Without warning, his body gave a shuddering gasp, then a sob that was torn from somewhere around his stomach. Before he could stop himself, he began to sob harder than he had since he was here. He missed Tony. He missed the rest of the Avengers, the movie nights, midnight snacks with a random team member who couldn’t sleep, dinners together, exercising while the others trained in the distance. He missed it all. He didn’t care if he as a person died, but he missed the memories and the thought that he might never be able to experience the overwhelming love of this family he had found after…after…

Thoughts of May, Ben, his parents, the Avengers, and Tony fled his mind as his throat gave an awful shock. He had nearly forgotten that the shock collar was still on his neck. It had been there for so long, he had forgotten about it. He gasped in pain as tears continued to flow down his face.

“Stop crying, subject. Irregular breathing patterns will confound the current assessment,” a voice rang over the speaker. Peter continued to cry. He couldn’t stop now that he had started. He yelped as the collar sparked more painfully than before. He tried to take shuddering breaths to calm himself. After two more shocks, he stared at the ground with wide eyes, no tears in sight. He clutched his chest, trying to regain his breath.

_Something is definitely wrong._

His eyes searched the room, but he didn’t know what he was expecting to find. His chest held a light burning sensation, as if he could not take in a full breath. Suddenly, he noticed a small screen on the wall with what looked like a battery life styled percentage meter. It did not show numbers, but the colors inside the scale ranged from red to orange to yellow to green. The scale was currently on yellow, meaning the breathable air in the room was already decreased by a fourth. There was a _hiss_ from the vent above him as he felt his breathe catch in his throat. He clawed at the thin gown he was wearing, as if it was constricting his breathing. On all fours, Peter picked his head up to look at the meter. It was orange. Gasping, Peter crawled over to the door and weakly banged a fist onto it.

“P-please,” he gasped. He was only greeted by a shock to his throat as he stumbled backwards, sprawled on his back. He weakly clawed at the metal around his neck only to be shocked yet again.

His eyes slipped closed as he dreamed of the safety of the compound.

_You probably shouldn’t even leave this lab. _

_You’re a danger to the world. _

_Inhuman. _

_Freak._

The ideas that had somehow been burned as a mantra into his brain returned. He was never leaving here. They weren’t coming to get him. He was going to die here and he deserved it. He didn’t belong in the world with normal people anymore.

He was only taking two or three breaths at a time now, his inhalations spaced out over the span of a minute. He opened his eyes only to be greeted by blurred vision. He didn’t need 20/20 to see that the meter was now red.

His eyes began to close as he struggled to draw breath.

_I am about to die…Let it be quick. Then I can see them again. _

The world faded to black.

.

.

.

.

He could breathe. But the world was still black. _Was he dead?_

He was floating in something light…was it water? Or was it gas? His ears seemed to burn with the silence of where he was. He felt his mind drifting…

_______________________

Tony was pacing. Bucky had said he was going to be used as collateral against Peter…but when? He had been stuck in this cell for what seemed like weeks now and there had been no visitors other than Bucky as a guard. He met eyes with the soldier giving him a warning look. The two had gotten good at communicating through eye movements, facial expressions, and small hand or body movements that could easily be missed by the camera.

Tony tilted his head and widened his eyes: _What is going on?_

Bucky’s eyes hardened as he slowly shook his head: _I don’t know. _

Tony pointed at his chest and then raised both of his palms in a question: _Are they going to use me?_

Again, Bucky shook his head while raising his shoulders slightly. _I don’t know. _

Tony jabbed his head towards the door to the hallway: _Go and find out._ A pleading look in his eyes: _I need to get my kid_.

Without a word, Bucky turned to leave the room.

__________________________

Bucky headed straight for the control room. Here sat hundreds of computer screens and monitors on the walls. He saw Tony’s cell and the room that it was in. He also saw the lab in which they had kept Peter, but the boy was nowhere in sight.

“What is it, soldier,” Normal Osborn mumbled, glancing slightly at him.

“When will my prisoner be used, sir,” Bucky replied.

“Oh, we don’t be needing him. The boy complied and will comply further under less stress than a visit from Mr. Stark. Dispose of him,” Osborn said heartlessly. Bucky’s own heart skipped a beat.

“And which stage in the operation are you in now, sir?” he asked trying to keep his voice steady.

“The last two combined. After this, we can begin conditioning, which I will need your help with,” Osborn said. “Now go, make quick work of Stark and await further instructions.”

Without saying a word, Bucky turned on the spot, his heart now hammering against his chest. As he exited the room, his mind wandered to his time in Russia.

_Longing_

_Rusted_

_Furnace_

_Daybreak_

His breathing quickened as he slammed the door open, startling Tony in his cell. There was no way in hell he was going to let a child get turned like he did. Tony raised his eyes as if to say _Well?_

Bucky gave him a warning look with a small twirl of his finger to indicate _We need to hurry. Now._

Tony’s head shook back and forth in confusion: _What do you mean?_ He pointed to himself: _Are they going to use me?_

Bucky shook his head vigorously, bringing his hand in a cancelling motion to his throat: _They’re not using you anymore. _

Tony’s eyes darted around the room, his gaze fearful: _What are we going to do then?_

Bucky had stopped pacing, looking at Tony. Discreetly, he held up a hand, pointed at Tony, held up his hand, then used both to imitate a patting down motion. He pointed at himself last: _You have to wait here. Let me handle it. _Before Tony could respond, he swept out of the room.

Instead of turning left down the hall to the control room, he turned right. Up one flight of stairs, a left, then another left, then a right.

He quietly opened the door to the communication hub of the corporation and let out the smallest sigh of relief to see that no one was in the room. He crossed to one of the computers and quickly found the database of New York and other world headquarters. “Avengers Compound” was close to the top of the list, a blessing to Bucky’s eyes. His breath long caught in his throat, he send a radio transmission through what he hoped would connect through whatever A.I. Stark inevitably had.

He began to type.

______________________________

The darkness seemed to press in on Peter. _Where was he?_ A twinge of panic laced through the back of his head as he tried to remember how he got there. His brain felt as though it was traveling a hundred miles per hour, but not encountering any sort of lucid thought along the way.

_How had he gotten here? Where had be been in the first place?_

_Who was he, anyway?_

_______________________________

The red light blinked three times before Natasha was able to tear her eyes away from the computer.

“Steve,” she called urgently.

After a month of searching fruitlessly for Tony and Peter, Steve came running.

“What is it?” he asked frantically as Clint, Rhodey, Bruce, and Sam followed in after him.

“We’re getting a radio message,” Natasha breathed. “It’s just beeping.”

“That’s not beeping,” Steve said, his voice constricted. “That’s Morse Code.”

“Get a pad of paper,” Steve ordered Sam. Sam quickly ran to the desk in the corner, hurrying back to stand next to Steve.

“You know Morse Code?” Clint asked, dumfounded.

“Of course I know Morse Code,” Steve said impatiently. “Everyone quiet.”

For a few minutes, the whole room stood in the tensest silence that any of them had ever experienced. They could see Steve’s breath becoming more and more shallow as he wrote on the pad. After about five minutes, Steve dropped the pad on the table in shock.

“Oh god,” he breathed.

He backed away as the others crowded around he pad. On it were words.

_Peter._

_Oscorp._

_Hydra._

_Longing._

_Tony._

_Lower level._

_East._

_Buck._

The others turned to face Steve, their eyes shocked and confused. Steve returned the gaze, his eyes frantic, “It’s from Bucky. We have to go now.”

_____________________________

Bucky straightened up. They would have to make due with that message. He only hoped it would be enough, or that they were even there at the compound. If they weren’t…

He turned around, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Before he could draw breath, his body was jerking with the force of 100,000 volts. He groaned on his back as he looked up into the face of Norman Osborn.

“Now, soldier, this won’t do,” he said menacingly. “I thought we were on the same team, here!”

Osborn got down on his knees, crouching further to whisper softly into Bucky’s ear.

“After all…_Hail Hydra._”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty hard chapter for me to write! I love all of your comments and they truly motivate me to keep writing! I'm going to try my hardest to get another chapter out next week, but the holidays are crazy! I still hope to update though! Love you all!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Get my kid, Nat,” Tony whispered.
> 
> “On my life, Tony. I promise,” Nat replied softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING* suicide

It had been hours since Bucky had left. What was he doing? Tony placed is hands on the bars, craning his neck as far as he could, not that he could see anything. If he just strained hard enough, maybe he could hear…just…a…

_BOOM_.

The door burst open and in walked Norman Osborn and two rough looking henchmen, one of which was dragging an unconscious Bucky behind him. Osborn stopped soon after he crossed the threshold, but the two other men began to open the lock on Tony’s cell.

“What are-” Tony began as one of the men threw Bucky into the cell next to Tony and the second man entered Tony’s cell. Before Tony could finish the question, a fist skyrocketed into his jaw and he stumbled back, spitting out blood. Before his eyes could focus, a blow was sent to his stomach, eliciting a sharp groan from Tony. He felt two pairs of arms grab each of his as he was held in a kneeling position on the ground. The first guard had joined the other in Tony’s cell.

He shook his head in a lame effort to clear his vision. After a few moments, he looked up into the face of Norman Osborn.

“What… the fuck,” Tony spat. Osborn did not smile. There was no playful jeer on his face. Every inch of his face was lined with cold hatred for Tony.

“You know, Mr. Stark,” Osborn began, “I don’t want much in life. I just want my experiments to be left alone, my soldiers to do their damn jobs, and for ordinary civilians to play in their own lower class cesspool they call New York City. Do you think that’s too much to ask?”

“Where is Peter,” Tony breathed, willing his voice not to waver.

“I said, Mr. Stark, _Is that too much to ask?_” Another blow to the stomach.

“I don’t…know what…you’re talking about,” Tony gasped.

“It seems as though Sargent Barnes was making use of my communications room this evening. He seemed unwilling to tell me anything. Would you happen to know why?” Osborn said, his voice forcefully aloof.

“I don’t know,” Tony partially lied. He assumed Bucky was sending a distress signal of some kind, but he didn’t know to whom exactly he was trying to contact. If he had any sense, it would have been the Avengers.

“I’m sorry, I must not have heard you correctly,” Osborn said. “Allow me to rephrase the question. What were the contents of the soldier’s message?”

“I have no fucking clue, you asshole,” Tony said exasperatedly. That was the truth. He had no idea what information Bucky had sent.

Osborn stepped back, slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think you understand the details of this situation, Mr. Stark.” From an inside pocket of his jacket, he drew a smart tablet. Tapping a few things on the screen, he turned it around to show Tony a sight that made his heart stop.

There was Peter. It was a poor quality, night vision, live feed of _something_. Peter seemed to be laying down in some sort of liquid. Tony could tell in the poor light that his face was gaunt and hollow, his breathing was eerily calm and his eyes…he eyes, reflected by the green tinge of the night vision, appeared milky white and lifeless. They stared up towards nothing. He was deathly still.

“Where is he?” Tony spat through clenched teeth. Osborn seemed to ignore him.

“Do you know what sensory deprivation does to the brain, Mr. Stark?” Tony said nothing, willing himself to not faint on the spot. He knew what sensory deprivation did.

“Among other things, it can induce hallucinations, audial and visual, anxiety, depression, an altered state of awareness, loss of one’s sense of self, and extreme suggestibility. Peter might not even know who he is right now…” Osborn’s voice trailed away as he paced the cell. He turned swiftly back to Tony.

“Now, you wouldn’t want this to continue now, would you?” Osborn said with his first sneer of their interaction.

“Let him go,” Tony said through clenched teeth. He halfheartedly tried to tug against the arms holding him, but he realized how weak he was due to his own lack of food and proper sleep. The two men did not budge.

Osborn walked over, placing a hand gently on Tony’s chin, holding his face in front of his own. “What. Message. Did. The Soldier. Send?” He breathed, annunciating each word.

“I don’t. Fucking. _Know_.” he said, frustrated tears now springing in his eyes. “I’m telling the truth,” he added.

“Debatable,” Osborn shrugged.

A fist collided with the side of Tony’s face yet again, leaving him dazed. A sharp jab to the ribs and then to the stomach left him gasping for breath, his head leaning heavily towards the floor. He felt his face being turned upwards again, this time, the hand was rough and unforgiving.

“I will give you one more chance,” Osborn threatened, his eyes wild. “Tell me or the boy dies with one command.”

“_No,_” Tony gasped.

“Yes,” Osborn responded. “I need an answer in 5…”

“Please, I don’t know. Kill me, please just don’t kill Peter,” Tony began to beg.

“Four…”

“I swear I don’t know! What do you want me to say!?”

“Three…”

Tony was sobbing now.

“Two…”

Both men stopped. There seemed to be a commotion beyond the door. Distant screams tore through the air, somewhat muffled by the metal door. The shouts and commotion became louder and louder until…

_BOOM!_

The door to the room was blasted apart, dust and debris flying everywhere as Tony looked into the faces of Steve, Clint, Natasha, Rhodey, and Sam. With two quick shots from Natasha, both men holding Tony were dead.

Tony fell from their now slackened grasp. Natasha pointed her gun at Osborn as Clint raised his bow to strike as well.

“Tony!” Steve yelled as Tony fell forward. Steve caught him before his head could hit the floor. Tony began frantically grabbing at Steve’s arms, trying to look up at the Captain.

“We need…to get…Peter,” he gasped.

“Where is he, filth,” Natasha snapped, her gun still pointed at Osborn’s heart.

“It’s too late for all of you now,” Osborn whispered with a smile. “There are many who will be able to take my place.” He closed his mouth and looked as though he was chewing something.

“Hail Hydra,” he breathed as foam started issuing from his mouth. He gasped and he fell, twitching on the ground.

“No!” Natasha yelled, running over to him. She grabbed him by the shirt collar, pulling their faces close to each other.

“Where is he,” Natasha threatened. But with one pitiful smile, Norman Osborn’s eyes closed, as he surrendered to his own suicide. Natasha let go of him, her eyes blazing with shock and anger.

Norman Osborn fell to the floor, no longer supported by Natasha. There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Tones, where is Peter?” Rhodey said, stepping forward. Steve hurried over to check on Bucky in the next cell, having taken a set of keys out of one of the guard’s pockets.

“I don’t know,” Tony whimpered, clutching his best friend.

“Guys, Buck looks like he’s been beaten half to death,” Steve called frantically. We have to get a move on. There could also be more guards coming.”

“Did Osborn tell you anything about Peter, Tony?” Sam asked hurriedly, stepping forward as well.

“Sensory…deprivation,” Tony breathed. “He said something about sensory deprivation. Peter was in a tank of some sort.”

Tony began to gasp frantically, “Oh god, I don’t know where he is! He could be anywhere in here.”

“Tony, calm down. We’re going to find him, ok?” Rhodey tried to soothe.

The others turned to a commotion coming from the next cell.

“Buck. Bucky, hey. Hey, come on, man. Open your eyes,” Steve was trying to rouse Bucky.

Bucky gave a few weak coughs as Steve pressed on.

“Bucky, do you know where they are keeping Peter?” Steve implored.

Bucky continued to cough, a few specks of blood falling from his mouth.

“Buck. Where is Peter? They said something about a sensory deprivation tank,” Steve said sharply.

Bucky was breathing heavily now, but more alert. “Down the hall, up one flight, *cough*, one right, then a left down a hallway. Second door on the right.”

Steve looked surprised at the sudden direction, but quickly sprung into action. Clint stepped forward, however.

“Steve, you get Bucky out of here. Get him back to the quinjet and we’ll meet you there. We’ll get Peter,” the archer said.

“Are you sure?” Steve said, chancing a worried glance back at Bucky.

“Definitely,” Natasha said. “Rhodey, can you take Tony?”

“NO!” Tony yelled, his voice weak and strained. “I’m coming with you. I’m getting my kid.”

“Tony, you’re in no condition yourself to be going on rescue missions. We’ll be quick as a flash. You can see him right on the quinjet. I promise,” Natasha said, seriously.

Tony looked as though the decision to leave Peter in the building was more than he could bear, but with a yelp of pain as he repositioned on the floor, his hand flew to his side. He knew he would only slow them down.

Tony reached out for Natasha’s hand. She took it without question, holding it firm. Tony stared into the assassin’s eyes and knew they held only promise and intent.

“Get my kid, Nat,” Tony whispered.

“On my life, Tony. I promise,” Nat replied softly.

“We’ll get him, Tony,” Sam spoke up. Tony looked up into the faces of Nat, Sam, and Clint and knew they would get Peter back no matter what it cost. Tony nodded as Rhodey made to lift him up.

He groaned as his face and his stomach gave painful stabs. He placed an arm around Rhodey’s shoulder as they set out to leave the room for the first time in who knows how long.

Steve followed with Bucky behind them.

Natasha, Sam, and Clint followed the path that Bucky had instructed to them. The first few yards were met with no one of particular significance, but when they turned their first corner, two guards blocked their path.

“Who are you?” the one guard said threateningly as they both raised their guns.

Natasha simply sighed as she looked at Clint and Sam. In one swift motion, the guards lay on the ground, unconscious. They continued on their path until they reached the door where Peter was supposed to be. The three avengers looked at each other nervously as Sam opened the door. In the middle of the room was, what looked like, a space pod. It was sleek and silver and about eight feet long. Sam walked over to the side where a touch screen was shining.

“What are you doing?” Clint asked.

“Trying to figure out how to open this thing,” Sam replied. “I think it’s just…_there_,” he finished as the pod gave a soft _hiss_.

With bated breath, they watched as doors opened on the pod. Peter was there, but was it Peter?

The boy was deathly thin. He was lying in water with only swim trunk-type shorts on. His eyes were opened, but Natasha knew that look. Sam knew it too. They saw nothing. They simply stared out in front of him at the now visible ceiling.

“Peter,” Sam said calmly, getting near his face. Natasha went to reach her hand towards Peter, but Sam caught it swiftly.

“Don’t touch him just yet. He might not react well after who knows how long with no sensory input.”

Natasha backed away, looking worried. Clint put an arm around her as they watched Sam.

“Peter? Can you hear me? Look at me, kid,” Sam said quietly. He began to ripple the water around Peter so that it would give him some gently sensation. Peter blinked and turned to Sam.

“Mommy, where are you going? Why can’t I come with you and Daddy?” Peter said, his voice incredibly small.

Sam looked up at Natasha and Clint. “Peter, it’s Sam. Remember me?”

“Sam,” Peter stated. “Where’s Uncle Ben?”

“He’s not here right now, bud. Let’s get you up, shall we? We can go see Mr. Stark,” Sam said, reaching into the water to lift Peter up. Peter tensed immediately, rigid in Sam’s arms. His breath quickened.

“Peter, Peter. It’s ok, it’s alright. You’re safe. We’re going to go see Tony, ok?”

Peter looked up into Sam’s face, his eyes shining.

“Who?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeep Eeeep! I hope you enjoyed! As always, you're comments mean the world to me!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bruce, whatever they did to Peter in there, I need to know. We don’t know when he’s going to wake up and if it’s without warning, I need to know what he’s been through. I can’t…I can’t go into this blindly. Not again."

Sam picked up Peter gently in his arms. The boy seemed to slump in Sam’s arms, not quite relaxed, but listless all the same. He stared off at nothing in particular as the other Avengers threw him furtive glances. Peter blinked his eyes slowly as they entered the night air, approaching the quinjet. As the team approached, they could hear a commotion issuing from the entrance of the jet.

“Bruce, get off of me, I need to see that Peter is ok. No, _no_, just stop, you can look me over once I know Peter is ok,” Tony sounded near hysterics, also issuing small sounds of resistance, as if he was fighting with Bruce or Rhodey.

“Tony, you need to lie down. You’re not helping Peter like this. He’ll be here in a minute and then you’ll see him. Now, get back down on the stretcher so you don’t rip you’re IV,” Bruce’s tone sounded firm, but scared at the same time.

Natasha looked worriedly at Sam, who nodded. Natasha went ahead of the three, walking up the ramp where the quinjet stood open.

She walked up quietly behind Bruce, laying a gentle hand on his arm.

“Can I talk to you?” she whispered seriously. In the corner she saw Bucky, seemingly unconscious, Steve applying basic first aid to the cuts and bruises to his face, exposed torso, and arms.

Tony seemed to have given up for the moment and was lying on a stretcher, taking deep, exaggerated breaths with his eyes closed. Rhodey sat next to him, looking quizzically at Natasha. Without a word, Bruce nodded and followed Nat outside to where Clint, Sam, and Peter were waiting.

Bruce immediately went into doctor mode as he began checking Peter over.

“What happened to him?” Bruce asked.

“Physically, he’s not in immediate danger besides probably malnutrition and exhaustion,” Sam began, his voice low and calm. “Bruce, I don’t think he’s fully cognizant. He didn’t remember who Tony was when we mentioned him earlier.”

“Where did you find him?” Bruce asked, concerned.

“He was in a sensory deprivation tank, Bruce,” Clint said darkly.

“Shit,” Bruce breathed, rubbing his mouth. “Do you know how long he was in there?”

“We’re not sure. My guess is longer than is beneficial,” Sam said. “Bruce, psychologically, who knows what we could be dealing with. At the very least, PTSD, anxiety, depression, and a level of psychosis depending on how long he was in there. Sensory deprivation does serious things to the head if you are submitted to it for too long. You see it in some war prisoners.”

“What’s that on his neck?” Bruce asked. The shock collar was still fastened tightly around Peter’s throat.

“We don’t know. It could be some sort of tracking collar or even a shock collar,” Natasha said darkly. Bruce took a few steadying breaths to calm himself before continuing.

“We shouldn’t let Tony seem him yet. I’m worried about him,” Bruce said, sparing a glance back at the quinjet. “Let’s put Peter to sleep. We should tell Tony what’s happening before he sees it for himself with only half the information.”

“Good idea,” Sam nodded.

“Do you need me to get something from in there Bruce?” Natasha asked tentatively.

“No, I have something right here. I had it on hand just in case for both of them,” Bruce said, pulling out and uncapping a syringe. He walked over to Peter, who was still staring off into the distance.

“Peter, why don’t you close your eyes,” Bruce said kindly. “Try and get some sleep.”

Peter flinched suddenly and rammed his eyes shut as if forced. Bruce looked over to Sam, who looked worried.

“Could be a defense response to whatever they made him do,” Sam said lowly.

Natasha stepped forward, threading her hand through Peter’s hair.

“Peter, relax,” she soothed. “Deep breaths for me, sweetheart.” She bent closer to his ear as she spoke soft words that none of them could hear. He seemed to relax by an infinitesimal amount, his eyelids becoming less pinched. In one quick movement, Natasha steadied his arm as Bruce slid the needle into Peter’s vein. He gave a start of surprise, but quickly relaxed further as the sedative took effect.

They quickly walked up the elevator, walking over to the third stretcher to place Peter on.

There was a sudden commotion from Tony’s place.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “Kid.”

“Tony, Tony wait,” Bruce said. Rhodey stepped in to hold Tony down.

“Tones, just relax,” Rhodey tried.

“Don’t tell me to fucking relax Rhodey. I need to see my kid,” Tony struggled against his best friend.

“Tony, sit down. At least let me move Peter closer to you so you don’t have to take out your IV or move,” Bruce said hurriedly.

Tony looked desperately at Bruce as he saw Sam placing Peter gently on the stretcher.

Now closer, Tony leaned over Peter’s prone form. Tears filled his eyes immediately as Tony smiled a watery smile.

“Hey, kid,” he whispered, his voice already breaking. He placed a hand on the side of Peter’s face as he leaned over. He placed a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead as his shoulders began to shake. Tony’s head fell onto Peter’s chest as Tony gripped the blanket that had been placed over Peter’s exposed body.

“Tony,” Rhodey whispered, placing his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “Come on man.”

Tony lifted his tearstained face, “W-what is that on his neck? Bruce? What is it? Get it off of him! Is he ok? Get that thing off of him!” Tony was near hysterics now.

“We’re going to take good care of him, Tony,” Bruce assured.

“Come on, man. Lie back down,” Rhode said again. This time, Tony struggled for a moment, but allowed himself to be pushed back down as the exhaustion seemingly took over. Bruce came forward, inconspicuously holding a syringe.

“Get some rest, Tony, ok?” Bruce said as he slipped the medicine into his IV.

“Take care of my kid,” Tony murmured as his eyes slipped closed.

Some time later, Tony found himself staring at the ceiling of the medbay. He felt almost completely back to normal, save a dull ache in his stomach and head where he had been hit, as well as bone deep fatigue. It took him a moment to realize why it felt as though there was a dull weight sitting heavily on his chest until…_Peter! _He began to fiddle with the different leads attached to his body when the door opened and Steve walked in.

“Oh my gosh, Tony,” Steve breathed in surprise. “You’re up! What are you doing?” He faltered at the sight of Tony wresting with different wires.

“Tony, come on, stop. Just hold on for a second,” Steve said, gently grabbing Tony’s arm to stop him from continuing.

“Steve, where’s my kid?” Tony asked, his eyes absolutely desperate. “How long have I been out?”

“He’s down the hall,” Steve said evenly. “And about twelve hours. It’s nearly dawn.”

“Is he ok?” Tony asked, annoyed that Steve didn’t lead with this information.

“He hasn’t woken up yet, but he’s stable,” Steve replied slowly. “Tony, I don’t know what they did to him but he doesn’t look good. On the outside, you wouldn’t think anything is wrong but…Bruce did a few scans.”

“And?” Tony prompted impatiently. At that moment, both men turned towards the door as Bruce walked in, a sad smile on his face.

“Hey, Tony. How are you?” Bruce asked solemnly.

“I want to see Peter,” Tony responded immediately as Bruce began looking over the monitors.

“You can in a minute, Tony. We just need to bring you up to speed before you see him,” Bruce explained.

“What about?” Tony asked, his voice faltering for the first time.

“As Steve started to say, I’ve been doing some tests on Peter to make sure everything is ok, and…” Bruce looked uneasy, “Comparing Peter’s medical history to what I’ve seen on his scans…everything that I’ve found can only be attributed to the past month that he was at Oscorp. What I found indicates that he was likely tortured in various ways. I don’t-”

But Tony wasn’t listening anymore. At the word torture, his hearing had become fuzzy and the room seemed to tilt on its axis before his eyes.

“-ony,” he heard in the far distance.

“—ny can –ou hear me?”

He felt a strong hand on his shoulder as his head snapped back to reality. He was looking into the concerned face of Steve, who looked nothing short of alarmed.

“Tony, are you ok?” Steve asked worriedly as Bruce moved forward once more.

“Y-yeah,” Tony stammered, shaking his head to clear it.

“Tony, I know this is a lot. Why don’t we leave it there for now? Do you still want to go see him?”

Tony nodded as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, immediately feeling lightheaded again.

“We’re going in a wheelchair, Tony. No arguments,” Bruce said firmly, and Tony knew the case was closed. He allowed himself to be maneuvered with his IV into a wheelchair and wheeled out of the room. They arrived shortly at Peter’s room. Tony rested his eyes on the boy in the bed and let out a heavy breath. Peter looked so frail under the blanket he was under. There were dark circles under his eyes, a tube down his nose, and his face looked deathly pale. Other than that, however, Tony was relieved to see that he did not look much different. Not taking his eyes off of him, Tony spoke to Bruce. Except… Tony’s hand traced over what looked like burn marks around Peter’s neck.

“We were able to get the collar off, but we’re still not sure what it did to him,” Bruce said quietly.

“What else were you going to tell me earlier, Bruce?”

“Tony, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

At these words, Tony took one of Peter’s cold hands in his own and tore his eyes away to look Bruce squarely in the eyes. Both Bruce and Steve seemed to shrink at the gaze Tony gave them.

“Bruce, whatever they did to Peter in there, I need to know. We don’t know when he’s going to wake up and if it’s without warning, I need to know what he’s been through. I can’t…I can’t go into this blindly. Not again,” his voice trailed away, remembering the unbearable separation that had been forced between them in the different cells at Oscorp.

“But that’s the thing Tony. A lot of this doesn’t make any sense. I can tell you, but only at face value. I think a lot of it has to do with his new powers that we weren’t able to fully assess and even then…some of the things they did…I would never dream of testing on purpose.” Bruce sounded scared and horrified at his own words, as if speaking them were costing him a great effort.

“What did they do to him Bruce?” Tony looked up, but his eyes were soft. “Please tell me.”

Bruce glanced at Steve who shared his expression of deepest regret. Bruce pulled up a chair next to Tony’s.

“From what I found…the best guess that I can come up with is that Peter was subjected to various forms of medical experimentation,” Bruce was studying Tony’s face carefully for any signs of panic. Besides pursed lips, he did not find any…yet.

“We did some x-rays and found recent bone remodeling. Peter hadn’t broken any bones in the past so we can only assume that this happened at Oscorp, but…bones don’t heal that fast. Additionally, we found previous signs of vertebral compression fractures and muscle strain, often seen in weightlifters. I also found signs of hypoxic brain injury on an MRI, possibly indicating that he didn’t get enough oxygen at some point. His fingers and toes show recovering signs of frostbite and his pupils are slow to respond. Sam said they found Peter in a sensory deprivation tank and Tony, I can’t even begin to guess on how that could have affected him. I just don’t know. But…”

“Continue,” Tony said stiffly.

“Tony, we did get images of Peter’s brain that were comparable those of soldier’s with PTSD and related trauma.”

Tony turned his head slowly back to Peter, who was still sleeping soundly. No one in the room spoke for a long while. Finally, Steve spoke up.

“Tony, are you with us?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“You said Osborn is dead, right?” Tony said, not taking his eyes off of Peter.

“Yes.” Bruce said uneasily.

“And Nat killed his direct henchmen?”

“Yes,” supplied Steve, also looking nervous.

“Good,” Tony said, still not taking his eyes off of Peter. “It’ll make my job easier when I burn the whole fucking place to the ground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Your comments mean the world to me and I always look forward to them once I post a new chapter! Comment away and stay tuned! Will Peter be ok?!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is safe, but Bucky and Tony have some issues to sort out...

Peter slept for the rest of the day. And the following day. And the day after that. The room hung with a sense of foreboding and unease, with Bruce and Tony unsure of what to do. Tony had been released in full health, but under the instructions to take it easy. This, Bruce reminded him, included refraining from grabbing the closest Iron Man suit and flying over to burn down Oscorp and everyone in it. Tony had conceded, however, to let Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Sam to do reconnaissance on the building. The absence of their prized test subject, Tony shuddered to think, must have set off different security measures.

But there had been no one there. They had returned to tell Tony that the entire Oscorp building had been stripped from top to bottom and the building lay abandoned.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Tony said, his voice low next to Peter’s bed. As he rose from his chair to stand before the group, his stomach seemed to be doing nosedives through his body. He looked frantically between the Avengers.

“They-they have to be somewhere! We have to check flight records, any transportation in and out of the state or country.” Tony was stammering in an effort to keep his anxiety at bay.

“Tony, we did,” Nat said gently. “But this is Hydra. They haven’t survived for decades by being sloppy with their trails.”

“But Nat…we can’t just let these people get away,” Tony keened.

“Tony, you’re forgetting that Osborn is dead. He’s the one who did or set the order to do whatever happened to Peter. He’s gone. Plus two henchmen,” Clint spoke up. “For all we know, the experiment that they started with Peter could also be abandoned.”

“Just…please,” Tony begged. “Please keep an eye out. Use whatever technology you need to. I need to find the people who did this.”

They nodded solemnly as they left the room. His elbows on Peter’s bed, he put his face in his hands. Bruce came back into the room at that moment.

“Tony?” he said, sounding startled.

“What,” Tony deadpanned, face still covered with his hands.

“Peter’s not asleep anymore,” Bruce said, his voice careful.

Tony’s head snapped up out of his reverie as he searched the boy’s face. He was breathing the same slow, deep breaths and his eyes were closed.

“Peter?” Tony whispered, his voice shaking. Peter did not respond, but simply lay there as he had for the past three days.

“Bruce, what do you mean? He’s just the same has he’s always been,” Tony said, turning to look angrily at Bruce.

“Look at these brain waves, Tony. They’re beta waves, not delta or theta. He’s awake,” Bruce said confidently.

“Peter? Oh, Peter, can you hear me?” Tony said desperately, grabbing his hand.

“Peter, sweetheart, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand,” he tried again. There was no squeeze of the hand, but Peter’s eyes opened, almost eerily calm. What Tony saw was somewhat similar to that of a china doll.

Tony gently touched Peter’s chin to let him know he was next to him.

“Peter? Can you look at me?” Ever so gently, Tony guided Peter’s chin so he faced Tony. His head moved without resistance, but the eyes that stared back were far from recognizable.

Peter simply stared at Tony. His eyes looked somewhere obscure on his face and his eyes blinked lazily, but there was no recognition, spark, or _life_ behind the eyes Tony had grown to love.

“P-Peter?” Tony asked again.

Without Tony’s hand on his chin, Peter moved his head back to center, so he simply stared at the ceiling.

A voice in the corner made both Tony and Bruce jump.

“It’s not uncommon,” Bucky Barnes said from the door.

Tony wheeled around to face the winter soldier, who had been recovering for the past few days as well. There was a butterfly bandage over a cut above his blackened eye and he seemed to be holding himself has he stood. Otherwise, he was ok.

“Not uncommon how?” Tony demanded. Bucky sighed and walked over beside Tony, pulling up a chair.

“It’s part of Hydra’s desensitization process. They did it with me, but Peter’s process was interrupted, so I can’t say it will be exactly what it was like for me.”

“What do you mean, desensitization?” Tony asked, his breath nearly failing him.

“When Hydra wants to make you their soldiers, they need to wipe out parts of your humanity and soul. If they eliminate what makes you, well, _you_, you’re easier to control because you don’t have any personal beliefs or inhibitions holding you back. The sensory deprivation tank was the first stage of it.”

Tony took a hard swallow, “So…so Peter’s not in there anymore?”

“Not necessarily. Like I said, the sensory deprivation tank was only the first stage. Even in the final stages, you can still come back from it. Just look at me…although I’m not sure if my track record gives you comfort. It’s extremely difficult to recover from, but it can be done. The mind is a very delicate thing. They didn’t teach us that back in my day,” Bucky looked down uncomfortably at his feet, his arms crossed. He seemed to collect himself as he continued, “Anyway, Peter only received the first stage of it. However, strictly speaking, Peter is still a child, an adolescent at that, making his mind hypersensitive to persuasion, influence, and tampering.

“So what do we do?” Tony asked.

“I’m…I’m not sure. Sam might be a good one to bring in on this one. My closest guess is to what Peter is going through right now is a sort of limbo. His brain could go right back to the way it was, or it could be ready to be influenced and changed. Obviously, we all hope for the first option. However, the trauma that he was put under complicates matters as well. Trauma and PTSD are battles by themselves. Can you see why Hydra is so invasive?”

Tony dropped his head in his hands, “This isn’t fair,” he said through his fingers after a long while.

“No, it’s not. Nothing about this is,” Bucky agreed, standing up.

“This is all your fucking fault,” Tony spat over at Bucky, who looked affronted.

“My fault? What are you talking about? I’m the reason you both are still alive,” Bucky snarled, his voice low.

“At what cost,” Tony said, beginning to stand up as well, trying to keep his voice low. He shot a hand at Peter. “Look at him! Why did you have to waste time with stupid coded messages and leaving me stranded for hours and days on end when you _KNEW WHAT WAS HAPPENING_.” Tony had risen now, his face inches from the Winter Soldier’s, the glint of Afghanistan shimmering across his irises.

Bucky stood his ground, the essence of the U.S. soldier evident in his posture. “You don’t think that the moment I saw that boy and the moment I heard his voice, that of a child, that I didn’t realize the error of what was going on? My mind may not be as undamaged as it once was, but you’re not going to stand there and tell me that everything I did from the moment I realized who he was that I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to stop him from being turned like I was. Not a child.”

“Then why did you take me too? You obviously knew who I was,” Tony spat, his eyes flaming.

“I wasn’t planning to at first. Then you saw my face and I knew I had to take you. Plus, Hydra has a way of using people as collateral. Forgive me, but I was hoping they’d use you, getting you two in the same room together so we could work out a better plan of escape.”

“But that didn’t work out, did it? You couldn’t have just let me go, allowing me to alert the Avengers and allowing a coordinated attack.”

“Did you know where he was being taken?” Bucky asked calmly, his voice nevertheless icy.

“Before I could tell you, would you have known where to look?”

“I would have found a way,” Tony growled. “A lot faster than your little spy heist.”

“You had no idea where we were. I only told you that Hydra had Peter, not Oscorp.”

“I knew Peter had been bitten by a spider at Oscorp, though.” Tony retorted. “I would have started there.”

“Would you have? Would you have gone to Oscorp, a seemingly benign scientific research facility, when I, Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier and most recently to your knowledge, an agent of Hydra, had come to take Peter?”

Tony seemed to be at a loss for words. He glared at Bucky, his chest rising heavily. Bucky continued.

“If something went wrong with alerting the Avengers, and I…and if I didn’t make it, I needed someone to help Peter out. That’s another reason why I decided to take you as well.”

Bucky paused, stopping to take a few deep breaths. “I can’t change my past. I can’t change the influence they had over me until a few weeks ago. I can’t tell you I’m sorry that everything that transpired played out the way it did, because every decision I made starting out on the grounds of the compound was a carefully calculated risk, risks that could have resulted in each of our deaths, but I chose to take them anyway, for the sake of an innocent child,” Bucky spat, pointing over in Peter’s direction. “All I can say is thank God that you were there with him. I don’t know Peter, but I know you. Seeing you was enough to trigger something in my memory that reminded me of who I was. So I’m sorry if you don’t agree with my methods. I’m sorry that part of the reason I took you was to trigger my true memory and to prevent myself from slipping back as easily under Hydra control. I’m sorry that you think this is all my fault, but I will not apologize for thinking that you were the best hope Peter had of surviving. I won’t do it.”

Bucky glared at Tony, almost daring him to fight back, but Tony’s resolve broke. Before he could speak, Bucky had turned around, heading for the door.

“If you still can’t stand the sight of me, fine. You don’t have to worry about me. But if you want me to help Peter, given that I kind of have experience in these areas,-” Bucky’s voice stopped as he felt a hand grab his shoulder. He flinched and twisted around to see Tony grabbing his arm.

“Barnes, wait,” Tony said in a broken voice. “I’m sorry. I really do appreciate the danger you put yourself in for me and the kid.”

Tony’s eyes scanned the ground, seemingly unable to look Bucky in the eyes now. Bucky’s demeanor calmed slightly, sensing the tension was dissipating. He took Tony’s hand off of his own, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Give him time. Talk to him normally, but don’t pressure him to talk immediately. Just reassure him that you’re here and he’s safe. I’ll be upstairs,” Bucky said, finally closing the door behind him.

The air hung with an awkward silence, both Tony and Bruce trying to take stock of the conversation that had just occurred.

A small sigh from a few feet away startled Tony. He had nearly forgotten that Peter had been awake this whole time. His breathing seemed strained as his eyes pinched shut, as if in a nightmare.

“Peter?” Tony asked gently, approaching the bed once more.

“He’s still awake,” Bruce said quietly, looking at the monitors.

“Peter, you’re safe. No one here is going to hurt you,” Tony reassured. He reached out a hand, placing it on Peter’s arm, but with a strangled yelp, Peter jerked his arm out of reach, eyes still tightly closed.

“Peter, shhh, it’s ok. It’s me, it’s Tony. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you open your eyes, bud?” Tony asked.

Peter’s eyes opened to reveal brown eyes swimming in tears. Peter seemed to be struggling to calm himself, quickly wiping the tears from his face in an effort to appear not upset.

“Peter, it’s ok, you can cry. You can cry all you want,” Tony said, troubled.

Peter’s face was now completely neutral as he silently shook his head _no_.

“You can’t cry? Peter, tell me what’s wrong. Can you talk to me?” Tony asked intently, now closer to the boy.

Again, Peter shook his head, not looking at Tony.

“Peter, do you know where you are?” Bruce asked. Peter looked temporarily startled at the presence of a new voice, but nodded slightly in response.

“Can you tell me where you are, Peter?” Tony asked, his heart beginning to race.

Peter turned his eyes back to Tony, giving him a truly pitiful look. He looked as though he was about to be led to the guillotine.

One agonizing look and then Peter turned his head to stare at the ceiling once more.

“Peter…” Tony whispered sadly. “Can you say anything?”

Peter’s eyes closed as he gave no response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like the dialogue between Tony and Bucky! I didn't originally intend for that conversation to happen so dramatically or for as long, but hey, I kind of like writing Bucky! Let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter begins to experience some of the lasting effects of being captured and tortured after Tony tries to ease him through recovery.

“What do you feel like to eat, Peter?” Tony asked. Peter had yet to say a word since the rescue and Tony was trying not to let his panic seep through his voice. Sam said that while it wasn’t ideal, selective mutism wasn’t uncommon after a traumatic event.

Peter said nothing, but stared down at his hands as he sat up in bed, breathing heavily.

“How about a little of everything?” Tony tried again, to no response.

Sighing, he left the room. He felt as though he was dragging anvils on his feet as he went to the kitchen area. Pepper was in the kitchen reheating some soup in the microwave. She had been by Tony’s side as often as she could while still having a company to run. Tony understood she was taking on more so that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything while he recovered and helped Peter recover. The sight of her nearly took his breath away, sparking a flame inside of him after what seemed months of darkness.

She saw the look in his eyes as he walked up to her, pulling her into a hug. He buried his head into her shoulder, taking deep breaths.

“Still the same?” she asked softly. Tony nodded into her shoulder. He cleared his throat and ran a hand across his face, stepping away from her.

“I’m going to get him some food. He hasn’t done any real food yet besides Bruce’s enteral feeding.” Instead of going to look in the pantry however, Tony just stood there, his hands leaning heavily on the island in the middle of the room. Pepper came over, placing a hand on his back.

“Tony…” she whispered.

“I don’t know what to do, Pep,” he said just as quietly. “Everyone says to give it time, but I just want Peter back. Our Peter. _My_ Peter.”

“I know,” she said slowly. “Just think about what’s going on inside Peter’s head right now.”

“I honestly try not to,” Tony said with a sigh. “I can’t imagine what he’s thinking. And to think that it’s because I couldn’t get him out fast enough.”

“But you got him out. He’s here and he’s safe. We can work with that,” Pepper countered.

Ten minutes later, Tony returned to the medbay with an assortment of foods. He had some fried rice, applesauce, chocolate pudding, goldfish crackers, a banana and other assorted fruit, and some cheerios.

“Don’t eat all of this, bud. You can’t handle all of it yet. Let’s just try some things out and see how you like them, ok?”  
Peter looked at Tony uncertainly, then made a motion as if he was drinking out of a cup.

“You want something to drink first?” Tony asked enthusiastically. “I can get that.”

He returned a few moments later with a pitcher of water and a cup.

“Slow sips, bud,” he said gently, pouring Peter a glass. Peter tentatively brought the glass up to his lips and took a small sip. His eyes darted up to Tony as he lowered the glass, his face going red. He set the glass down on the tray in front of him, his eyes darting back to his hands, occasionally glancing at Tony.

“Do…Do you not want me here, Pete? Do you want me to leave you alone for a bit?” Tony asked, unsure of what Peter was uncomfortable with. His face redder than ever, he nodded minutely.

“Sure thing, bud. I won’t be far away. I’ll come in a check on you in a bit.” Tony said, feigning a smile.

He walked out of the room only to sit in one of the chairs directly outside of the door.

A few minutes later, he heard some noises coming in from the room as Bruce and Sam walked up, the former holding a clipboard.

“What’s Peter doing? Why are you out here?” Bruce asked.

“I got Peter some food to try like you said, but he made it seem like he didn’t want me in there while he ate,” Tony said in a pained voice.

“What did you give him?” Sam asked curtly.

“A variety of things…crackers, fruit, cereal, applesauce. Easy things. Why?” Tony asked.

“It’s just…I’m not sure if…” Sam began until a crash made them all jump, Tony scrambling out of his seat to follow the others hastily into the room.

Peter wasn’t there. The tray that Tony had brought his food on was overturned on the ground. Expecting a mess of food, Tony did not find anything of the sort on the floor. Rather, every dish that Tony had brought Peter had been licked clean, as if there had never been any food there at all. Even the banana peel was gone.

“Tony, how long did you leave him in here?” Sam asked, alarmed.

“It couldn’t have been more than five minutes!” Tony replied, panic rising in his voice. “Peter?” he called. They heard a horrible sound coming from the bathroom attached to Peter’s room. The trio ran over to the door to find Peter slumped against the toilet, his face hanging over the bowl and vomiting what looked like all the food that Tony had brought him.

“Peter! Bud, what happened? What’s wrong?” Tony asked in frantic tones.

“Peter, did you eat all that food just now? In just that amount of time?” Bruce asked, dumbfounded.

Peter gave no response, but was squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he pushed past the startled men, darting back to where the water jug still sat on the table. He grabbed the pitcher, sloshing some water out in his haste. He nearly sprinted to the other side of the room, as far away from Tony and the others as he could get, clutching the water jug to his chest, his eyes wild and fearful.

“Peter, I know you’re scared. It’s ok. We’re not going to take anything away from you. You’re free, remember?” Sam was saying, his hands out before him as a gesture of peace.

Peter clutched the water jug even closer to his chest, his wide, fearful eyes darting back and fourth amongst the three men.

Sam inched closer to Peter, quickly giving Bruce a significant look as the scientist began backing away from Sam and Tony.

“Peter, why don’t you put the water jug down? Let’s just sit together and talk this through, hmm?” Sam was saying evenly. Peter’s eyes were now darting between Sam and the water jug in his hands, his breathing picking up in pace.

“Peter, we can have some water once we go and sit somewhere more comfortable. Can I see the water for now? I’ll go and pour us some glasses and we can drink it slowly.” Sam was saying. Peter, however, seemed to be panicking even further with each step Sam took. With one erratic movement of Peter’s wrist, Sam said somewhat frantically, although his voice still purposefully calm, “Peter, you don’t have to d-”

But Peter had overturned the water jug into his mouth, guzzling as much of the water as he could. The remainder spilled out on either side of his face as he tried to take in as much of the water as possible.

In one swift moment, Sam had eased the jug out of Peter’s shaking hands as Tony grabbed his shoulders from behind, gently restraining him.

With surprising force, Peter wrenched himself out of Tony’s grasp as he began to cough, gag, and splutter from the onslaught of water. Tony moved his arm over to place it on Peter’s heaving back, rubbing long strides over his spine.

“Peter, breathe. You’re ok. It’s ok. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Tony was whispering in Peter’s ear as the boy weakly fought against Tony, the strength leaving him quickly. Tony heard Sam murmur Bruce’s name from above them as Bruce moved forward. Sensing what Bruce was about to do, Tony held Peter’s arm firmer as Bruce plunged a needle into Peter’s bicep. Peter gasped softly, shutting his eyes as he continued to breathe heavily. Slowly, his body began to calm as he slumped backward against Tony’s chest.

“That’s enough to keep Cap out at least,” Bruce said, his voice low.

Tony placed a hand on the top of Peter’s head, stroking his hair, looking horrorstruck.

“Sam, what the hell was that?” he asked, his voice breathless with hints of anger.

“I have an idea, Tony, but you’re not going to like it,” Sam said, admitted begrudgingly.

“I don’t like any of this,” Tony deadpanned. “What’s one more piece of shit news?”

Sam sighed. “Peter must have been starved intentionally. He must have had food and water taken away from him where he couldn’t get it back. You see this in some war prisoners. His most basic, evolutionary wiring is causing him to focus on his most basic needs, no matter how he has to get them. Hoarding or binging food and water is a survival technique. It can become an obsession,” Sam said gravely. “My basic instincts wondered if he should be left alone with his first real food.”

“So you’re saying that these sons of bitches starved my boy and now he’s afraid we’re just like them and are going to take it away again?” Tony asked, tears filling his eyes.

“Unfortunately yes,” Sam sighed again. “It’s going to take patience, repetition, and consistency for him to trust us again. I would hazard a guess as to say he still hasn’t broken out of the shell he’s put himself in since being at Oscorp.”

“He doesn’t trust us? He doesn’t trust me?” Tony asked, anguished.

Bruce spoke up next to Sam, “Tony, it was nothing you did, do you understand? What these monsters did, they did this to him, not me, not Sam, and especially not you. Peter’s brain is just trying to protect itself.”

“Yeah, Tony, him retaliating is actually a good sign,” Sam said hesitantly. “He realizes he has an opportunity to fight back, however small. He may sense that we will let him live normally. If he didn’t think there was any hope, I doubt he would try to fight back or change his situation. It’s called ‘learned helplessness’.”

Suddenly, the door opened, welcoming Natasha and Steve, followed by Bucky, who stood sentinel in the corner.

“Tony, what happened? We thought we heard crashing,” Natasha asked. She and Steve took stock of the room, the syringe in Bruce’s hand, and Peter on the floor.

“Tony, what _happened_,” Steve implored.

“We have it under control, Steve,” Sam murmured, discretion lacing his voice. He leaned closer to Tony, “Tony, come on, let’s get him up on the bed.”

Together the two men lifted Peter’s small frame gently onto the bed where he seemed to curl in on himself on top of the sheet.

Tony simply stood there for a few moments, running a hand over his mouth, looking down at the boy on the bed. The room hung with a palpable tension as half of the room remembered what had just happened and the other half wondered what exactly they weren’t being told. Without another glance, he turned swiftly from the room at a near run, leaving the rest behind him.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t. When was the last time he actually breathed? Like, took an actual fucking deep breath? He slid onto the floor outside of Peter’s room has he clutched at his chest, the arc reactor glowing softly underneath his shirt. He could feel the anxiety everywhere, white hot, prickling panic. He felt like he could implode right there where he sat. He closed his eyes in a sardonic attempt to give his body permission to do so, come what may.

“-ony,” he heard from what sounded like underwater.

“-ny…Sam…c…’ere,” the voice echoed again.

His shoulder burned as a hand was placed firmly against his shirt. He jerked away, his breathe becoming more erratic at the touch.

“-eve…don’t,” the voice was saying. Then the voice came much closer and clearer to his ear.

“Tony. You’re ok, you’re safe. Peter is safe. I need you to take some deep breaths for me, and when you’re ready, look up at me,” Sam’s measured voice called.

“I-I c-can’t…b-breathe,” Tony stammered, his face burning with the heat of a thousand suns, his hand trying to grasp blindly at the wall behind him.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, Tony, but if you’re talking, you’re breathing. If you can’t look up yet, just look at my chest. Watch it go in and out.”

With an enormous effort, Tony wrenched his eyes open to see the blurred outline of someone in front of him. He quickly wiped the unshed tears to focus on a strong-looking chest rise and fall in front of him.

“That’s it, Tony. In and out,” Sam said encouragingly. After five agonizing minutes, Tony looked up into the calm, yet worried face of Sam Wilson.

“You back with us, man?” he asked gently.

“I can’t do this, Sam,” Tony whispered. “I’m not you. I don’t know how to deal with these sorts of things. I was in that goddamn cell for months unable to reach him and help him, and now I’m finally with him and I still can’t do a goddamn thing. I don’t know what to do.”

“Tony, would you go into battle with any of the people in this compound today?” Sam asked thoughtfully after a pregnant pause.

“W-what?” Tony stammered, confused.

“If there was an attack outside and you were called to action, would you trust us to go with you?” Sam continued earnestly.

“Y-yes, of course. Why?” Tony replied, confusion still evident in his voice.

“Why would you trust us?” Sam asked.

“Because you…you care about me and this city and this world. And you’ve proven that I can trust you. You’ve always shown up,” Tony whispered.

“Exactly,” Sam said, smiling at Tony’s conclusion. Tony sensed a smaller presence crouch down next to Sam.

“Tony, this team is a family. We don’t give up on family, especially not Peter. We will always show up,” she said sincerely. “We are going to do everything in our power to fight this with Peter. Sam will be here and if there are things that are out of his realm of expertise, then we find someone who can handle them.”

“Tony, kids, especially in the system who have lost parents, come from traumatic backgrounds. One of the greatest tragedies is that they often don’t have a support system to help them deal with what they’ve experienced. Peter has that with us. Can you imagine if you hadn’t taken him in and he still went to Oscorp and was bitten by that spider? Tony, we’re going to be there for him no matter what. I know it seems terrifying right now, but we’re going to take this day by day.”

Tony looked up into the face of Steve Rogers as Bucky stooped next to him as well, having come to join the group from down the hall.

“Recovery doesn’t have a timeline,” Bucky muttered quietly. “It’s non-linear, messy, incredible, terrifying, and frustrating…but it can happen. I didn’t pledge to stop helping Peter the moment we got out of Oscorp, you know,” Bucky finished with a small smile.

“We’re going to get through this…together,” Steve said with a sad smile.

The group remained grouped in silence for a few moments.

“Here, Tony, do you think you can stand?” Sam asked after a time. Tony allowed himself to be picked up by his elbows as he was led on shaking legs to look back into the room where Peter lay.

“Tell me Tony, what do you see in there? Who is that kid?” Sam asked.

“He is my intern, and my spider kid…and my son,” Tony said, his voice breaking.

“What would you do for him?” Sam asked quietly still.

“Anything. I would do anything,” Tony responded, his breath catching in his chest.

“Anything is enough, Tony,” Steve said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Anything is enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So this chapter was somewhat hard, yet really easy and special to write. I adore that they showed Tony with an anxiety disorder throughout the MCU and it's something that I don't forget and always think is important to portray in fics. I really wanted to portray the repetitiveness of affirmations that those with anxiety often need to hear consistently. Having support (not physical touch though sometimes) during panic episodes and panic attacks is so important to help keep a person grounded and I wanted to show that! I was partly inspired by the book Turtles All The Way Down by John Green as far as obsessive traits go. I'd love to hear what you thought and how you think I did with this subject material!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gently lifted Peter’s chin to look into his face. He could see the dam behind Peter’s resolve, itching to burst. Tony looked back at him sadly.
> 
> “It’s ok, Peter. It’s ok,” Tony whispered.

“Peter, I’ll give you this, but we’re going to drink it slowly together, ok?” Tony said the next day. They were in Peter’s room now, in an effort to help Peter feel more at home.

Peter had woken up that morning in a state of solemn reclusiveness, still refusing to speak. Tony hated the way Peter eyed the glass of water with feral hunger in his brown eyes. Tony picked up another glass on the table and slowly handed the first to Peter.

“Pete, there’s more water than this. You can get some any time you’d like, well, once we get used to reintroducing it for you. It’s not going to be taken away and you’re never going to be denied water if you’re thirsty, ok?”

Peter’s eyes remained locked on the glass of water Tony was holding out.

“Pete, I need a yes,” Tony said gently.

Silently, Peter nodded as he took the glass with a shaking hand.

“Peter, I need you to drink this slowly, ok? We’re both going to take some sips, pause, and then take some more, ok?”

No response.

“Peter, again, I need a yes. Do you understand?” Tony asked with a sigh.

Peter nodded, sparing a glance up at Tony, who was sitting in front of him on the floor.

“Good. Now, you can take two sips and then stop,” Tony said warily. The two lifted the glasses to their mouths. Tony took two small sips while Peter seemed to be struggling against not downing the whole glass. His eyes were pinched shut as if in pain, his lips also pursed together, as if opening them further would be his downfall. He took one small sip and then jerked the cup down, breathing heavily. Tony quickly eased it out of his hand, setting both glasses on the table. He could see Peter’s face going red, not with embarrassment, but as if he was holding back something.

“Peter, what is it? What is wrong? You did such a good job. I am so proud of you, bud,” Tony said kindly.

Peter took a shuddering breath, wiping a small tear from his eye, his face going blank of all emotion. Quickly though, tears filled his eyes once more. Peter repeated the motion, his face going blank again before the tears returned for a third time. Panicked, Peter quickly went to remove them with his hand, but Tony, acting on a hunch, held Peter’s hands gently in his own.

“Peter? Do you want to cry?” Tony asked, sadly.

Peter quickly shook his head as he closed his eyes in an effort to stop more tears forming.

“Peter,” Tony began even softer. “Those people…did…did they not let you cry? Did you want to?”

Peter gave no response, but stared at his lap, his breathing quickening.

“I’m not going to make you, Peter, but I need you to know that I love you any way you are. Whatever you have to do to get through this, I want you to do it, and that especially includes crying. I want you to cry and wail and scream if you need to. Absolutely no one is judging you or blames you and no one is going to make you stop until you’re ready to.”

Tony gently lifted Peter’s chin to look into his face. He could see the dam behind Peter’s resolve, itching to burst. Tony looked back at him sadly.

“It’s ok, Peter. It’s ok,” Tony whispered.

And then he broke.

Like swallowing his first gulp of air after being drowned, Peter gasped out a broken sob as his hand flew to his mouth out of instinct.

“It’s ok, Peter,” Tony whispered as a mantra, taking Peter’s wrist and lowering it to his lap. Peter was beginning to hyperventilate now.   
“Peter, you can cry, but I need you to breathe also, ok? Deep breaths for me,” Tony said quietly, not wanting to startle the boy any more.

Discreetly, Tony moved over from his position in front of Peter so that he was sitting next to him, both of their backs against the side of Peter’s bed. Tony laced an arm around Peter’s shoulders. The boy flinched ever so slightly, but Tony held his grip.

Peter continued to give weak, shuddering cries as Tony raised his hand to rest it on the side of Peter’s head.

“Peter, you can lean on me if you want to,” Tony said, sensing the boy’s rigidity. Peter made to lean his head against Tony’s shoulder, but halted, clearly unsure about how to proceed. Ever so gently, Tony helped to guide Peter’s head onto his shoulder. As soon as Peter’s ear touched Tony’s shoulder, he let out a gasp and one of the most guttural sobs Tony had ever heard. Tony’s hand returned to Peter’s upper arm as Peter slid down off of Tony’s shoulder, placing his head in Tony’s lap, bringing his knees up to his chest.

And Peter screamed.

He cried for the night he had been taken. He wailed for the first time he had woken up in Oscorp. He screamed for all of the things that they did to him. He screamed with the weights they made him hold, he screamed for the bones they had broken. He screamed for the overwhelming cold he had felt. He screamed for the times he wasn’t able to when he had been deprived of oxygen. He screamed for the silence of the deprivation tank.

He spluttered and choked on countless sobs, begging to be torn from his body. And Tony held him. He held him close, crying with him. He cried for the boy who had lost four parental figures. He cried for the boy thrust into a mutant life he did not ask for. He cried for the horrors he had to endure at the hands of Oscorp. He cried for his son. His _son_.

The door to Peter’s room opened. Sam, Bruce, Natasha, and Steve stood in the doorway, looking sad and alarmed. Tony looked up and shook his head slightly, indicating for them to leave. Some gave him small smiles before they gently closed the door behind them.

Peter’s wails brought them into the night as they sat there, the room becoming steadily darker.

“FRIDAY, lights, 10%” Tony murmured softly to give them just enough light to not be in complete darkness.

The pair sat there for hours until Tony felt the boy’s breath calming down. When it had been an hour of Peter’s calmed, yet occasionally hiccupping breaths, Tony made to maneuver himself from underneath Peter’s small frame.

He heard Peter whimper as he felt Tony’s presence leave him.

“Shh, don’t worry, kid. I’m right here,” Tony hushed. He bent down, lifting Peter gently off the ground, placing him more comfortably on top of the bed. Peter’s arm jutted out, grabbing Tony’s wrist as he went to pull away.

“It’s ok, Peter,” Tony said. “I’m right here, just sleep, ok?”

The grip tightened around Tony’s wrist as he heard one of the most beautiful sounds Tony had heard in a long time.

“S-Stay,” Peter whispered. He had spoken. Tony felt as though the breath had been pulled out of his lungs at the sound of Peter’s voice.

“I’m not going anywhere, Peter,” Tony said, his tone dripping with unbridled joy at the sound of Peter’s voice.

Carefully, Tony slipped behind Peter so he was between Peter and the wall of Peter’s room. Peter turned so that he buried himself into Tony’s chest, Tony’s hand coming to rest on Peter’s back.

“Th-Thank you,” Peter whispered, his voice muffled.

“Of course, Peter. Of course,” Tony whispered back, his eyes full of tears. Maybe they would be ok after all.

And Tony sang.

_The world is brighter than the sun  
Now that you're here.  
Though your eyes will need some time to adjust  
To the overwhelming light surrounding us,  
I'll give you everything I have.  
I'll teach you everything I know.  
I promise I'll do better.  
I will always hold you close,  
But I will learn to let you go.  
I promise I'll do better.  
I will soften every edge,  
I'll hold the world to its best,  
And I'll do better.  
With every heartbeat I have left  
I will defend your every breath,  
And I'll do better.  
'Сause you are loved.  
You are loved more than you know.  
I hereby pledge all of my days  
To prove it so.  
  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is shorter than the others and I'm not going to lie, I'm losing steam writing this! I'm not sure why, but it just doesn't seem to be as popular as some of my other chapter fics. Comments are so appreciated and keep me motivated! Regardless, the fic might be wrapping up here soon :(


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I…I don’t feel like myself anymore.” Peter’s eyes shone with tears somewhat underneath the surface. “The bite and…and…what they did to me. They called me inhuman…a freak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! I am SO sorry for the horrible delay. I've been studying like crazy for grad school exams and have always been too exhausted to write. Thank you for being so patient!

Tony woke up slowly. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. He then found his arm wrapped tightly around a small figure against his chest. _Peter_.

They had fallen asleep in Peter’s bed. The boy had cried for what seemed like hours, to the point of nearly getting sick, until his soft hiccupping calmed him enough for Tony to lead him up on top of his bed, rather than sitting on the floor next to it. Tony had gone to pull away, but in Peter’s semi conscious state, he had grabbed his arm- not tight enough that Tony could not pull away, but with enough resistance to let Tony know it was intentional. Rather than risk losing all of the trust Tony had built that night, he crawled into Peter’s bed.

His arm was still around Peter, who was fast asleep. Ever so carefully, he extricated himself from Peter’s tangle of limbs and quietly exited the room, making his way down to the kitchen and common area. The clock on the stove read 6:30am, evident by the weakly rising sun through the window.

Ten minutes later, Tony sat with a cup of black coffee, staring into the murky brown depths, somewhat detached as he recounted the previous night’s events.

“Tony?” came a soft voice, nearly sending Tony shooting through the roof of the compound.

Someone else hissed sympathetically, adding, “Easy, Tony.” Tony looked up to see Natasha and Bucky inching tentatively into the semi-lit kitchen. Tony sighed and looked back down at his coffee.

“Hey, guys,” he said quietly.

“Tony,” Natasha said hesitantly. “Are you ok?” Her voice was laced with concern.

Tony plastered on an attempted smile as he watched Bucky go over to the coffee pot, making a cup for Natasha and himself.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” he said with a sigh. “Kid had a big night last night.”

“We heard,” Natasha said tactfully. “Is he ok?”

Tony sat his cup down and rubbed his hands over his face. He shrugged.

“He will be,” Bucky said softly. Tony looked up at the Winter Soldier, now finally speaking.

Bucky continued, “I heard too, but I didn’t come running with the rest.”

“I’m glad, but why not?” Tony asked, intrigued at a deeper answer.

“Tony, you’re forgetting that Peter isn’t the only one who’s gone through trauma work,” Bucky said quietly, smiling sadly.

“Peter’s going to do things exactly how he needs to in order to get through this. Finally breaking down and crying your eyes out is hardly out of the range of normal healing behaviors, no matter how loud or intense.”

“I just want him to be ok,” Tony whispered, looking down.

“We know,” Nat said kindly.

“He’ll get there,” Bucky said. Taking stock of the look of skepticism on Tony’s face, he added earnestly, “He _will_.”

Silence.

“What else happened last night? You don’t have to tell us everything. We just want to know where he is mentally right now,” Natasha said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“They…They didn’t let him cry. I don’t know what they did but they didn’t let him cry. I think he was punished if he did. He was trying to hold it back so much out of fear,” Tony said heavily.

“I finally ended up breaking through to him and that’s what you guys heard. He even said some things later on.” Tony looked up with a hesitant smile, as if trying not to let himself get carried away with any ounce of hope.

“Tony, that’s great!” Natasha exclaimed. “What did he say?”

“He asked me to stay with him and then ‘thank you’,” he replied. “I don’t know if this is a permanent breakthrough or if he’s going to go back to not speaking.”

“Probably a little bit of both,” a voice sounded from behind them. The three turned around to see Sam in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, seemingly having just come down from his room.

“Tony that’s great about Peter,” Sam said, grasping Tony’s shoulder. “I think that he will still be quiet and he may only speak select things to you, but possibly not the rest of us. Who knows? Let him set the pace, but still be encouraging.”

As if right on cue, they heard shuffling from down the hallway. A few moments later, Peter emerged into the light of the kitchen, tousle haired and clutching a blanket around his shoulders.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said warmly, but not too excitedly.

Peter’s eyes darted between Bucky, Sam, and Natasha and then back to Tony. He smiled a smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“Is this ok, Pete? Do you want them to leave?” Tony asked quietly as Peter came inching closer to Tony.

Peter quickly shook his head, muttering under his breath so that only Tony could hear, “S’fine.”

Tony smiled and raised his hand as if to pat him on the back, but stopped abruptly as Peter’s eyes darted up to his hand.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” Tony asked concerned. Peter took a breath and nodded as Tony placed a hand on Peter’s head, gently running it down his head and neck. Peter closed his eyes at the touch, but quickly stepped away after a few seconds. He took a seat a little apart from the others as he pulled the blanket closer around him.

“What do you say, Pete? Breakfast?” Tony asked. Peter suddenly looked both uncomfortable and fearful. His eyes dropped once more as he gave a noncommittal shrug. Natasha watched as Tony leaned close to Peter, whispering something in his ear. Peter returned the gesture, admitting something to Tony under his breath. The two spoke intimately, heads together. Natasha almost felt as though she was intruding on something private. Peter seemed to have exhausted his speech because the next few moments consisted of Tony speaking gently and Peter either nodding or shaking his head. After a few more moments, Tony placed a hand on Peter’s back and got up, walking over to the cabinets. He came back a minute later with a glass of water and a medium sized bowl of dry Honey Nut Cheerios. Tony whispered something as Peter looked up, fear still etched in his eyes.

Tony came around to sit near Natasha, Sam, and Bucky, pointedly wanting to turn the conversation back to them.

“What are you guys up to today?” Tony asked, his back to Peter.

Tony could feel the curiosity radiating off of them as he tried to divert attention away from Peter, who had now begun to munch on his Cheerios one at a time while taking small sips of water, his hands shaking slightly. He looked as though he wanted to curl in on himself.

“I told Peter we’d give him some space. He feels a little weird about eating in public right now, so just give him some space, ok? Let him be,” Tony said in hushed tones as they others exchanged glances.

“Nat, what’s your plan for the day?” Tony asked again, a bit louder.

“Clint, Steve, Bucky and I are meeting with Fury to discuss what happened and to make arrangements for Bucky.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, somewhat alarmed. “What kind of arrangements?”

“Whatever Hydra did to me, it’s still in there…and…I was an accessory to your capture and imprisonment,” Bucky said resignedly.

“What are you talking about? That’s insane!” Tony rose from his chair. “You’re the one that helped get us out and you knew what you were doing the whole time. You told me yourself- everything you did was a calculated risk with our survival in mind.”

“Yes and we know that,” Natasha said calmly. “But we need to handle this legally, even if Bucky is innocent. It has to be put on the record.”

“Also this way, SHIELD can help us further assess where Bucky is right now mentally and can take measures to retrain him, possibly integrating him into SHIELD as an agent,” Steve added.

Tony gave a derisive laugh. “Steve, you and I both know that there are can be some serious idiots at SHIELD. You’re sure they’re going to see it this way?” Tony asked.

“We’ll make sure of it,” Steve said earnestly. “None of us are going to let Bucky fall through the cracks on this one.”

“Don’t worry, Tony, I’ll be ok,” Bucky said with a sad smile. “It’s for the best that we do it this way. Plus, I can try and give them any intel on what they had been doing at Oscorp and where they might be now.”

Tony folded his arms as the others stood up and began to head out of the room. Bucky walked past him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Besides, never took you as the sentimental type, Stark,” he said with a smirk, walking out of the kitchen. The others followed as Tony turned back to Peter, who was sitting with his hands in his lap, his head down.

“You ok, Pete?” Tony asked. Peter nodded quickly, but did not speak.

Tony noticed the bowl of Cheerios, only half empty. The cup of water, however, was empty.

“You don’t want the rest of your cheerios? Tony asked, trying to look up into Peter’s downcast eyes.

“Not hungry,” Peter mumbled.

“That’s ok,” Tony said, bouncing back. “Why don’t we put these in a bag and take a walk? Some fresh air?”

Peter shrugged, but nevertheless got up from his chair, finally picking up his head.

“Is it ok if I put my arm around you, Peter?” Tony asked tentatively. To his surprise, Peter nodded. Tony placed his arm around the boy’s small frame and led him out into the yard behind the compound.

They had been walking for about a half hour around the grounds when Tony’s phone buzzed. He opened the screen to see a text message from Steve.

_Fury will take care of Bucky’s situation._

_It may take some time, but it will be handled._

_Bucky will be ok._

_-S_

Tony let out a sigh of relief as he put his phone away. He turned to see Peter standing under an oak tree, his hands on the trunk, staring intently at the bark’s detail.

“What’s up?” Tony asked, walking up to him. Peter stooped down to pick up a fallen leaf, running it between his eyes, feeling its soft, cool touch.

Peter did not speak for a while, still looking intently at the leaf. Finally, without looking up, he said softly.

“I thought I was going to die in there,” he whispered. Tony was taken aback at this abrupt statement, but recovered quickly.

He walked around so he was standing right in front of Peter. He placed his hands on the boy’s face, lifting it gently. Peter, still holding the leaf between two fingers, gently placed his own hands on top of Tony’s, looking up at the older man.

“I was never going to let that happen, no matter how long it took, do you hear me Peter?”

Peter smiled, but looked down at the ground again. After a few breaths, his gaze returned to Tony.

“I…I don’t feel like myself anymore.” Peter’s eyes shone with tears somewhat underneath the surface. “The bite and…and…what they did to me. They called me inhuman…a freak.” Tears were now running down Peter’s eyes as Tony wrapped him in a hug. They pulled apart as Tony looked adoringly into the eyes of his son.

“Peter. I want you to listen to me and I want you to listen very carefully,” Tony said earnestly.

“You are not a freak and you are so very human. We’re going to figure this out, ok? We’re going to figure out what happened and how to manage this. Look. I have heart problems, Clint has hearing problems, Bruce has anger problems, and you…you just have…spider problems.” Tony said, straining to make the connection work.

Peter let out a mix between a laugh and a sob as he looked at Tony.

“I’m going to be with you through it all, Peter. I swear to you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Whatever you need, a therapist, doctors, specialists, I’ll get it for you. We’re going to get you better here,” Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulders, “and here,” he said more softly, taping a finger on Peter’s forehead. “You’re still the funny, smart, talented kid I met all those years ago. You’re still you.”

Peter looked up, into Tony’s eyes once more. “I’m scared, Tony,” he said in a small voice.

“I know,” Tony replied gently. “It’s ok to be. We’re going to get the monsters behind this. We’re going to take this one day at a time- you and me, until you’re not scared anymore.” Suddenly, Peter leaned in for a hug that Tony gladly accepted.

Tony breathed in the scent of Peter’s hair, feeling his chest rise and fall against his own. Though he would never admit it, there were times when even he thought he would never feel that again. He closed his eyes, the breeze dancing around them, the sun warm on their heads.

“Promise?” Peter whispered into Tony’s chest.

“Promise,” Tony replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, the story has come to a close <3 I hope you all liked it and please let me know what you thought in the comments! Thank you to all of those who have stuck with me through this! You are the best!


End file.
